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A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 



A WIFE WITHOUT 

A SMI LE of of 

A Comedy in Disguise 

In Three Acts 



By 
ARTHUR W. PINERO 



All rights reserved under the International Copyright Act. 
Performance forbidden and right of representation reserved. 
Application for the right of performing this play may be made 
to the publishers. 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

LONDON 

WILLIAM HEINEMANN 

MCMV 



A Wife Without a Smile 



LIBRARY of OONGflESS 
fwo Copies rteceiveu 

17 1905 

au.ss <£ XXc. Ww 

6 2. 0<F 

GOPY 8. 




Copyright, 1905, by 
ARTHUR W. PINERO 



All rights reserved 



PLEASE READ CAREFULLY. 

The acting rights of this play are reserved by the author. 
Performance is strictly forbidden unless his express consent has 
first be^ni obtained, and attention is called to the penalties pro- 
vided, b.ylaw for any infringements of his rights, as follows: — 

"Sec. 4966: — Any person publicly performing or representing any 
dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, 
without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composi- 
tion, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, such 
damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hun 
dred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent perform- 
ance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful perform- 
ance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons 
shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction he imprisoned for 
a period not exceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes, Title 00, 
Chap. 3. 



A Wife Without a Smile 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

Seymour Rippingill. 
Haynes Webbmarsh. 
Vivian Trood. 
John Pullinger. 
Foley. 

Mrs. Rippingill. 
Mrs. Webbmarsh. 
Mrs. Lovette. 
Bates. 



Scene — the Boat-house in the grounds of Mr. Rip- 
pingill' s residence at Taplow. Time— a week-end 
in July. 



ADVERTISEMENT 

As it is quite uncertain at what point , if at any, the in- 
terest of this piece commences, the audience is respectfully 
requested to be seated at the rise of the curtain. 



A Wife Without a Smile 



THE FIRST ACT 

The scene is a room in a " boat-house " belonging to a 
villa at Taplow. On the left is a double-door. When 
this door is open a dwarf wall is seen, forming the em- 
bankment of the garden and running in a direct line 
away from the spectator into the distance. On the ex- 
treme left y parallel with this wall, is the opposite side 
of the river. The garden is represented as being some 
eighteen feet above the river level, and that part of the 
embankment-wall nearest to the audience is supposed to 
end in a flight of steps leading down to the actual boat- 
house and the river-bank. At the back of the room 
there is a deep bay-window with cushioned seats ; and 
on the right is an archway ad?nitting to a hall of 
moderate size, in which, opening from extensive 
grounds, is another door. 

The walls and ceiling of the room are of polished 
wood, the ceiling being supported by beams. A cottage 
piano and a music-stool stand on the right of the bay- 
window. Also on the right are an armchair, a small 
table, and a settee ; and, against the wall, a sideboard 
and a smoking-table. Some dishes of fruit and the re- 
mains of the more substantial items of a morning 
meal are on the sideboard, and on the smoking-table are 
boxes of cigarettes and cigars, an array of pipes , a 
7 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

match-stand, and a jar of tobacco. On the left y laid 
for breakfast, is a large oval table at which a settee 
and three chairs supply seats for five persons ; and 
further to the left, against the wall, is a writing-table. 
Other articles of furniture, of a light kind, occupy 
spaces not provided for in this description. 

A telephone is attached to the wall at the back, on 
the right. Tlu window- seat is strewn with news- 
papers and magazines. Head-gear in great variety 
hangs on a hat-stand in the hall. 

fust outside the hall-door a garde?i-ladder rests 
against a veranda which surrounds the house. 
Creepers cling to the veranda. The window and the 
hall-door are open and the sun is shining brilliantly. 

[Note :— " Right " and " Left," unless expressly 
stated to be the right or left of a personage in the play, 
are the spectators' right and left, not the actor' s.~] 

[Avis (Mrs. Rippingill), Christabel (Mrs. 
Webbmarsh), Haynes Webbmarsh, Seymour 
Rippingill, and Mrs. Lovette are seated 
at the table on the left, finishing breakfast. 
Avis is at the head of the table, facing the 
spectator ; Christabel and Rippingill are 
on her right, Webbmarsh and Mrs. Lovette 
on her left. The ladies are in dainty summer 
gowns, the men infiannels. Foley, a manser- 
vant, is busying himself at the sideboard ,• pres- 
ently, carrying a tray laden with breakfast- 
things, he zcithdrazvs, passing through the hah 
and disappearing into the garden. Rippingill 
is at the end of a funny story and everybody is 
more or less amused except Avis, whose face 
wears an expression of settled melancholy. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 9 

RlPPINGILL. 

[A volatile, yet precise, little gentleman of forty-four.] 
Ha, ha ! ho, ho, ho ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[A handsome woman of uncertain age, bright and pre- 
possessing.] Ha, ha, ha, ha! Nonsense 1 it couldn't 
have happened ; it's impossible. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Pardon me ; many things are improbable, nothing is 
impossible. 

Christabel. 
[A sparkling brunette, two or three years settlor to Avis.] 
What did the man do ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Apologized profusely. What could he do ? 

Webbmarsh. 
\Five-and-thirty, tall, lean, curly-headed, moustached.\ 
And she — the lady ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Fled down-stairs and jumped into a passing hansom. 

I won't answer another question. Ha, ha — ha ! 

\His laughter flickers out, extinguished by A vis's 
silence, and he exchanges glances with Mrs. 
Lovette and shrugs his shoulders. 

Webbmarsh. 
Congratulate you, Seymour. Quite up to high-water 
mark. 

Christabel. 
[To Rippingill.] Your stock is inexhaustible ; and 
you are such a wonderful mimic. 



10 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Avis.] You don't hear this to-day for the first 
time, that is evident, Mrs. Rippingill. 

Avis. 
[A pretty, childlike young woman of three-and-tiuenty, 
with an abundance of fair hair, turning doleful eyes upon 
Mrs. Lovette. J Yes, I've not heard it before. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Really ! 

Rippingill. 
[Wiping his brow.] Phew! [To Christabel.J More 
strawberries ? 

Christabel. 
No, thanks. 

Rippingill. 
[To Mrs. Lovette. j Dora? I insist. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Three or four. They're delicious. 

Rippingill. 
[Rising.'] My own growing. [In a whisper, as he takes 
her plate.] Now ! your tale of old Lady Whitstable and 
the pickled salmon ! try it ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Also in a whisper.] I can't. She paralyzes me. 

Rippingill. 
For my sake, dear friend. It's irresistible. [Aloud, 
moving to the sideboard^ I am begging Mrs. Lovette 
to give us her story of a supper-party at old Lady Whit' 
stable's. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 11 

Webbmarsh. 
Ah ! capital. 

[Rippingill, standing at the sideboard, watches 
Avis eagerly, he spoons strawberries on to 
Mrs. Lovette' s plate, letting some of them fall 
to the floor. 

Christabel. 
Old Lady Whitstable— she is still alive, isn't she ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Alive ! I was playing Bridge with her for an hour 
yesterday. She's only eighty-seven. 

Webbmarsh. 
Only ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Oh, a widow may live to any age, when she's properly 
provided for. I intend to do so, frankly. 

Christabel. 
You hear that, Haynes ? I hope you are insuring your 
life heavily. 

Webbmarsh. 
Not I. A literary gent is entitled to die without a 
farthing. 

Christabel. 
Heartless ! 

Webbmarsh. 
What about widowers, Mrs. Lovette ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
They generally shorten their lives by remarrying. 



12 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 
Merci. I'll remember your warning. 

Christabel. 
[Holding out her hand lovingly.] Haynes, don't chaff. 
I can't bear it. 

Webbmarsh. 
[Pressing her hand. J Forgive me, Christabel. 

Rippingill. 
[Impatiently.} Yes, yes, yes— but Lady Whitstable's 
supper-party 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Well, the incident arose out of a little supper at her 
house in Onslow Gardens 

Rippingill. 
Ha, ha ! ho, ho ! This is exquisite. Listen, Avis. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The function took place in her bedroom ; they can't 
move her, you know 

Avis. 
[Rousing herself. \ Talking of bedrooms, I've forgotten 
to ask if you were comfortable in yours last night, Mrs. 
Lovette. 

Rippingill. 
[Dropping strawberries. \ Tscht, tscht, tscht ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Chilled. \ Oh — oh, most comfortable. 

Avis. 
Some people loathe a strange bed. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 13 

Rippingill. 

[ Advancing, the plate of strawberries in his hand.] 
Avis, Avis — Lady Whitstable and the pickled salmon. 
Now, consider for a moment, my pet — reflect. What a 
grotesque contrast ! A tine, crusted specimen of our 
English aristocracy and — pickled fish ! The mere con- 
templation of two images so violently opposed in itself 
makes for mirth. Doesn't it, dearest? 

Avis. 
[Meekly.] I suppose it does, Seymour. 

Rippingill. 
Suppose! How obvious! [In Mrs. Lovette's ear 
as he places the strawberries before her.] Go ahead. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Well, on this particular occasion 

Rippingill. 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Rippingill.] Be quiet ! [Resuming.] On this— 

on this particular — on this [Breaking down under 

Avis's pensive gaze.] Oh, gracious ! 

Rippingill. 
Hey ? What's wrong ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Weakly.] I — I've been put off it. 

Rippingill. 

No, no ! 

Webbmarsh and Christabel. 

Please 

[ There is a knock at the door on the left. 



14 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPFINGILL. 

[Raising his voice.] Who's there ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ To Rippingill, as the others turn their heads towards 
the door.] Incurable ! 

[The door opens and Vivian Trood presents him- 
self, his blazer on his arm, his shirt-sleeves 
rolled back to his elbows. He is a good- loo k^ 
ing, boyish young man of six-and-twenty, lofty 
and supercilious in manner. 

Trood. 
Morning. Am I in the way ? 

Rippingill. 

In the way ! [Pointing to the breakfast-table.] We 
kept a vacant place for you on the chance 

Trood. 
[Putting on his jacket.] Sorry. [Shaking hands with 
Avis a?id Christabel.] Morning. [Nodding to Webb- 
marsh.] How d'ye do? 

Webbmarsh. 

How are you ? 

Rippingill. 

[To Mrs. Lovette, who is eating her strawberries.'] 
Let me introduce my young friend Mr. Trood — Mrs. 
Lovette. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Delighted. 

Rippingill. 
One of our rising artists. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 15 

Mrs. Lovette. 
But not an early rising artist, eh? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Ha, ha, ha ! Good ! You missed that, Avis. 

Avis. 
[Dully.] Missed what, Seymour? 

RlPPINGILL. 

H'm — never mind. [Going to the smoking-table.] 
Pipes ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[To Avis. J May I ? 

Avis. 
Of course. 

Webbmarsh. 
[Joining Rippingill and jilting his pipe from the to- 
bacco-jar^ 

' ' Sublime tobacco ! which from east to west, 
Cheers the tar s labor or t/ie Turkman s rest" 
Byron. 

RlPPINGILL. 

' ' Whose spreading evil we — ah — we must learn to 
smother, 
Or stunt the schoolboy and unsex his mother." 
Rippingill ! Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The readiness of the creature ! 

The Webbmarshes. 
Admirable ! 



16 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Trood. 

[Seating himself in the armchair.} I dropped in to in- 
quire what the arrangements are for this morning — 
whether I may be allowed to share in them. 

Rippingill. 
Your fate is in the hands of the ladies : I have to be 
busy with my head-gardener until lunch. [Offering him 
a box of cigarettes.] Ismalun's? 

Trood. 
[Producing his cigarette-case. ] Thanks; I prefer my 
own. [To Avis.] I say, Mrs. Rippingill! I've done the 
deed. 

Avis. 
The deed ? 

Trood. 
Taken on my cottage at Cookham for August. 

Rippingill. 

[Advancing to the settee on the right. \ Bravo ! 

Christabel. 
The sweet little nest I was so envious over yesterday ! 

Rippingill. 
They've stuck you pretty considerably ? 

Trood. 
Frightful. 

Rippingill. 
[Lighting his pipe .] Pish ! you'll be inspired to paint a 
picture that will make your fortune. Corot, and that 
sort of caper, what ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 17 

Trood. 
Oh, I'm full of ideas. 

Avis. 
[To Mrs. Lovette.] Shall we move? 

Mrs. Lovette. 

Certainly. 

[Avis and Christabel retire to the bay-window, 
where Webbmarsh, emitting clouds of tobacco- 
smoke, is already ensconced. Mrs. Lovette 
remains at the table for a few moments, brush- 
ing crumbs from her dress and otherwise putting 
herself in order. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Now, I've a notion for the composition of a land- 
scape. Ha, ha ! the presumptuous amateur ! It flashed 
across me after our recent discussion on Symbolism in 

Art 

Trood. 

[Rising.] Yes, but we won't keep the ladies hanging 
about. 

RlPPINGILL. 

You're right ; another time 

[Trood joins the group at the window. Mrs. 
Lovette is leaving' the table. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[ Under his breath. ] Dora ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Eh? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Rising. | Sssh ! [ Drawing her towards the right.] I 
confess to being grievously disappointed at the failure of 



18 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

your inimitable description of Lady Whitstable and the 
pickled salmon. I had set my hopes upon it, in a great 
measure. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Failure ! You can't say the beastly thing failed ; it 
never made a start. 

Rippingill. 
True. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I didn't catch the salmon, much less pickle it. 

Rippingill. 
Perhaps later in the day 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Not for worlds. She freezes my spine, that glum little 
wife of yours. 

Rippingill. 
You see my letters have not overstated the case, Dora. 
// is a decided defect in her disposition ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Appalling. To-morrow is Sunday, too ! I feel in- 
clined to take the first train back to town. 

Rippingill. 

In mercy, don't ! You heard me tell young Trood, as 
an excuse for my remaining at home this morning, that I 
am engaged with Phillips, the gardener? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes. 

Rippingill. 
[Chuckling.^ Ha, ha! you're Phillips. [Seriously.] It 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 19 

will be such a relief to me, dear old friend, to unburden 
myself to you viva voce. 

Mrs, Lovette. 
But what excuse can /make for shirking these girls? 

Rippingill. 
Oh, I leave that to you. You were a girl once. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Seymour ! 

Rippingill. 
I beg your pardon. What I mean is that two young 
women of — er — much the same age are always ready to 
forego the privilege of the society of one who is a great 
deal — that is, a few years 

Mrs. Lovette. 
You'd better stop ; you're getting deeper and deeper. 
[Foley, the man-servant, and Bates, a parlor* 
maid, have entered from the garden, the former 
carrying a large, light, wooden box, corded and 
labeled. 

Foley. 
[Showing the box to Rippingill.] A porter has brought 
this from the station, sir. It's marked " urgent." 

[Rippingill, having glanced at the label, hurriedly 
takes the box from the man. 

Rippingill. 
Thank you, Foley; thank you. [To Mrs. Lovette.] 
Cover me ; spread yourself out. 

[She places herself betzveen him and the group at 
the window while lie goes down upon his knees 
and secretes the box under the settee. Foley 
joins Bates, who has a tray in her hand, and 
assists her to clear the breakfast-table. 



20 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Rippingill.J What on earth have you there? 
What are you concealing? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Toys. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Toys ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

Of a purely diverting character. Ordered 'em from 
Hamley's yesterday— gave the firm carte-blanche — this 
season' s novelties. {Getting to his feet, j Are you familiar 
with the Dying Pig ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I've not that pleasure. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Beaming:] It's irresistible. ' 

Mrs. Lovette. 
They are to be a surprise for your wife ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[With a nod of assent.] I shall distribute them about 
the room during her absence. [Wiping his brow again. J 
1 want them to burst upon her. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Dubiously. \ You fancy they may cause those stony 
features of hers to relax ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Out ! I'm determined to leave no stone unturned— 
not even stony features. [Tickled at his Joke.] Ha, ha, 
ha! [The group at the window breaks up.] Quick! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 21 

[Passing her across to the settee. ,] Sit down, [Pointing to 
the box.] Put your feet in front of it. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
It's so enormous. 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Thoughtlessly.] Yes, but your feet will hide it. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sitting.] Well, I'm sure ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

I beg your pardon. What I meant was [ To 

Avis, who now approaches followed by the Webb- 
marshes. J My pet? 

Avis. 
Mr. and Mrs. Webbmarsh won't go on the river this 
morning, Seymour. Mr. Webbmarsh has some review- 
ing to do. [To Webbmarsh.] I'll run up-stairs and 
make sure that your table is in order. 

Webbmarsh. 

Pray don't trouble 

[Avis disappears, e?itering the hall and turning 
sharp roimd to her right. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[interested.] Reviewing ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[\S7j//y.] Reviewing ? 

Webbmarsh. 

Yes, I must plough through the second volume of the 
" Life of Disraeli " before dinner, somehow or other. 



22 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

And — ah — ahem ! — Mrs. Webbmarsh ? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Constrainedly.] Oh — ah — Christabel— I dictate notes 
to Christabel as I read. That's the process. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, that's the process, is it ? Ho, no ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Now what is the man laughing at ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[To Christabel.] Shall I tell tales, Mrs. Christabel? 

Christabel. 
I don't care a rap. You're thinking of yesterday 

RlPPINGILL. 

[To Mrs. Lovette] I've placed the room above this 
at Mr. Webbmarsh's disposal, Dora — for his reviewing. 
Ha, ha, ha! And yesterday, having occasion to speak 
a word to the reviewer, I — ho, ho! — no, it isn't fair of 
me 

Christabel. 
I'll supply the sequel. Mr. Rippingill found me sit- 
ting beside Haynes on the sofa, my head resting on his 
shoulder. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Volume One upon the floor — discreetly, face downward. 
The process of reviewing ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Mr. and Mrs. Webbmarsh may have been reviewing 
the events of their courtship. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 23 

Christabel. 
Extremely nice of you, Mrs. Lovette. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I gather that, like our host and hostess, you are newly- 
married people. 

Christabel. 
[Slipping her arm through Webbmarsh's.] We've 
scarcely yet realized that we are married, have we, 
Haynes, dear? 

Webbmarsh. 
\ Annoyed.] At any rate, my day is to be devoted to 
work, and my wife promises me her sympathetic as- 
sistance. [To Christabel, stiffly.] We will make a 
start, Christabel. 

Christabel. 
Auvoir, till lunch ! 

[Webbmarsh and Christabel withdrazv, in the 
direction taken by Avis. Rippingill whistles 
softly. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Too bad of you, Seymour ! 

Rippingill. 
[Lowering his voice.] H'm! sad. Upon my soul, my 
imagination fails to conceive a more deplorable spectacle 
than that of a man incapable of enjoying a laugh against 
himself. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The difficulty lies in persuading the live lobster that 
the boiling process is dignified and entertaining. 



24 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

But Webbmarsh ! who used to have the keenest appre- 
ciation of fun ! A couple of months ago he would have 
roared at my harmless banter. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Two months ago ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

When we were lobsters — bachelors. Now it's nothing 
but bill and coo, bill and coo, from morn till eve. 
[Moving over to the left as Avis reenters and returns to 
Mrs. Lovette. J Ha, ha, ha! His critique in the Bi- 
weekly should be a gem ! [ Wiping tears of laughter from 
his eyes.] The process of reviewing ! 

[By this time the servants have cleared the table 
and sideboard and have departed, carrying the 
rest of the breakfast-tliings on trays. Trood, 
who has remained at the window reading a 
newspaper, now approaches Avis. 

Trood. 
I hope Mrs. Lovette is coming with us, Mrs. Rippingill. 

Avis. 
[To Mrs. Lovette.] Mr. Trood proposes to take us 
up to Marlow, Mrs. Lovette. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Exceedingly kind of Mr. Trood, but I'd rather you all 
went your own ways and let me to potter about here 
alone. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Hypocritically.] My dear Dora ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I'm a tired town-woman, recollect — stale as old shoes. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 25 

Avis. 
Oh, it shall be exactly as you wish, naturally. 

Trood. 
Dreadfully grieved. 

[He goes out at the door on the left, leaving the 
do 07' open. 

Avis. 
[To Rippingill.] Seymour, you will ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Can't, my pet ; most important letter to write. 

Avis. 
Why, a little while ago it was the gardener 

Rippingill. 
[Hastily.] Yes, yes— I'm writing to the gardener. 

Avis. 
Writing to the gardener ! 

Rippingill. 
[Smiling fatuously.'] It does sound singular— but it 
isn't. I can't stand the heat of the sun. That's the 
simple fact — I cannot stand the sun. 

Avis. 
But Phillips could see you up at the house, or here. 

Rippingill. 

[In difficulties.] My dear Avis, it may be an old-fash- 
ioned prejudice on my part ; but, ever since I have been 
in a position to employ a gardener, it has been a settled 
conviction with me that— er — his appropriate place is in 
the garden. 



26 A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 

Avis. 
[Gloomily.] As you please. I have to give some or- 
ders to the cook ; tell Mr. Trood he must wait five min- 
utes for me. 

Rippingill. 
I will, dearest. 

[Slie takes a hat from the stand and goes. Rip- 
pingill bustles away and calls to Trood from 
over the dwarf wall. 

Rippingill. 

Mrs. Rippingill has gone up to the house to attend to 
some domestic duties. She'll be with you shortly. 

Trood. 
[From below. J All right. 

[Rippingill comes back into the room. Mrs. 
Lovette, who has accoinpanied Avis to the 
hall-door, faces him, laughing. 

Rippingill. 
Eh? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Seymour, you're a beautiful story-teller ; but, oh, what 
a contemptible hand at a fib ! 

Rippingill. 
Ha, ha, ha ! {Gallantly. ] I ought to be able to return 
the compliment, but I can't. 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[Fanning herself with a fan which she carries.] Well, I 
never ! 

Rippingill. 
I beg your pardon. [Seating himself in a chair on the 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 27 

left and rubbing his head.] The truth is, Dora, I some- 
times find my wife's baby face and round eyes a trifle 
discomposing. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Thoughtfully. ] Seymour 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Catching her mood.] Dear friend ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Your first wife was possessed of no sense of humor, 
either, was she ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

{After a pause.\ Not in the faintest degree. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What an odd fatality ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Staring before him. \ It is — rummy. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
That it should befall you, of all persons ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

Precisely ! I who managed to preserve, throughout 
twenty years of servitude in a government office, what I 
claim may be fairly described as an almost abnormal 
perception of the ludicrous ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Laying her fan upon his shoulder.] However, taking 
one thing with another, you haven't much to complain of. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Jumping up .] Complain of ! [Soberly.] Ahem! On 
the contrary, apart from my — ahem! — my — er 



28 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
It was unfeeling of me to remind you of it. 

Rippingill. 

[With a wave of the hand.] My unfortunate maiden 
matrimonial venture, I regard myself as the luckiest devil 
in existence. Why, only think ! Just as I was becom- 
ing sick to death of the office ; just as my remarkable 
sense of humor was perhaps beginning to show signs of 
wear and tear 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Looking otit of the window.] You drop in for all this ! 

Rippingill. 
Delightful, hey ? [ Walking away to the right.] This 
boat-house was my Uncle Horace's last addition to the 
property. [Sitting on the settee.] Poor old Horace! 
[Taking his pipe from his pocket '.] Bless me, how fond the 
old chap would have been of Avis ! He was totally des- 
titute of humor also. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Turning from the window abruptly.] Seymour, what 
passes my comprehension is that the child's lamentable 
deficiency didn't dawn on you sooner. Not that it would 
have made any difference 

Rippingill. 

[Discovering that his pipe still contains some tobacco, 
and relighting it.] My dear Dora, our engagement fol- 
lowed a particularly superficial knowledge of each other's 
idiosyncrasies. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
But during your engagement ! 

Rippingill. 
Experience teaches me that that period is often 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 29 

marked by a suspension of the faculty of observation. 
Added to which, it was as brief as our previous acquaint- 
ance. My wife's aunt — A vis's sole living relative, an 
aged lady with rheumatic tendencies — earnestly desired 
to see her niece happily settled in life before she 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Sympathetically. \ I understand. 
Rippingill. 
Before she went to Bath. 

Mrs. Lovette. 

Oh! 

Rippingill. 

{With a puzzled air.] The whole business was — I 
don't use the word in its vulgar significance — stunning. 
It seems to me, looking back on the affair, that the 
moment I had proposed, my tailor was measuring me for 
my wedding garments ; and that immediately after that 
I was wearing 'em, in the presence of the Registrar. 
[Seeing- Trood saunter past the door on the left.] Ah ! 
young Trood ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What about him ? 

Rippingill. 
I wonder if he could enlighten us. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Enlighten us ? 

Rippingill. 
As to whether Avis has ever manifested the cheerful- 
ness characteristic of youth. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Why should he ? 



30 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

He knew her before I did. [Rising.'] He and some of 
his brother art-students were lodgers in the boarding- 
house where I first met her. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
If it were done delicately 

RlPPINGILL. 

It might be instructive. [Trood appears outside the 
window ; RlPPINGILL goes to the window and hails him.] 
My dear fellow, I caution you — that creeper swarms with 
insects. [To Mrs. Lovette, indicating that Trood is 
about to join them.] You open the ball; I'll cut in. 
[Trood enters.] 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Mr. Trood, do come to my assistance. Mr. Rippingill 
and I are indulging in quite a hot argument. 

Trood. 
Indeed? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
He dares to maintain that the sense of humor is more 
acute in men than in women. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Behind the table on the left.] I was instancing my 
charming wife — perfect — absolutely perfect, if I may say 
so, in all other respects 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Distinctly unfair ! I should like to have the evidence 
of somebody who knew her before she was threatened 
with the responsibilities of marriage. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 31 

Rippingill. 
Should you ? Ha, ha ! I refer you to our young 
friend there. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sitting at the table on the left, Rippingill at her 
elbow. \ Ah ! Now, Mr. Trood ! 

Trood. 
{Advancing.} I ! my dear lady, don't ask me to settle 
the point. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I do, deliberately. You and Mrs. Rippingill were ac- 
quainted before she met her husband. 

Trood. 
I don't deny that. But in the days when Mrs. Rip- 
pingill and I — Miss Meiklejohn she was then 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes? 

Trood. 
In the days when Miss Meiklejohn and I were residing 
at Mrs. Culross's in Westbourne Terrace, I and my com- 
panions were struggling to find a fitting formula for the 
expression of our artistic ideals. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I see — which was no laughing matter. 

Trood. 
We were hesitating — I trust I am not too technical — 
we were hesitating between Realism on the one hand and 
Impressionism on the other. [Seating himself in the arm- 
chair.] Men in that condition of mind need sympathy, 
not fun and frolic. 



32 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
And that you got from Miss Meiklejohn ? 

Trood. 
\Assentingly."\ We made that young lady the recipient 
of our confidences. Our custom was, I remember, to as- 
semble upon the landing before dressing for dinner. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The landing ? 

Trood. 
The second-floor landing. [Shutting his eyes.] I have 
only to close my eyes to recapture the effect of the even- 
ing light streaming through the colored window. It was 
the curious play of that light upon the seated figure of 
Miss Meiklejohn which led to our giving her the name 
that afterwards clung to her at Mother Culross's. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The name ? 

Trood. 
Avis of the Shimmering Hair. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Shimmering ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

\ Coming forward, his handkerchief to his month. J 
Shimmering ? 

Trood. 
Hair. Its tone has become somewhat duller, if I may 
be permitted the remark, than it was in Westbourne 
Terrace. [Dreari/y.] But may not the same comment be 
applied generally to life ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 33 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Unable to restrain his laughter. \ Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Trood. 
[Coldly. \ I beg your pardon ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Avis of the Shimmering Hair! The setting sun 
touched with his magic brush the luxuriant ceil at the 
back of the shapely head, 1 suspect, hey ? 

Trood. 
Certainly. It was the consciousness of the supreme 
difficulty of seizing it — grasping it 

Mrs. Lovette. 

The— er ? 

Trood. 
The shimmer— the difficulty of transferring it to the 
canvas, that nearly drove us artists to despair. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
And you and your friends — which school did you favor 
in the end ? Impressionism or Realism? 

Trood. 
Impressionism. But I think that some of us are grad- 
ually drifting towards Realism. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ah! you are learning to draw a little, I suppose. 

Trood. 
Yes — no — that is 

RlPPINGILL. 

[//earing footsteps in the garden. ] Behold ! the lady of 
the Shimmering ! 



34 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Trood. 
[Rising hastily — to Mrs. Lovette.J Excuse me. 

[Avis is seen to pass, first the window, then the 
open door on the left. 

Rippingill. 

[To Trood.] Lunch at half-past one, as usual. You'll 
join us? 

Trood. 
Thanks ; probably. 

[He goes out at the door on the left and disappears. 

Rippingill. 

[Following him.] You'll have a perfectly delightful 
morning. [Calling to Avis.j Oughtn't you to take a 
wrap, my pet? No? There, I won't worry you. [Re- 
luming and closing the door.] Ha, ha ! Most attractive 
young fellow — Trood, but really I begin to doubt if his 
sense of humor is worth a two-penny ticket. Isn't it as- 
tounding ! [Hurrying across to the right and withdrawing 
the box from under the settee. \ Now ! [Depositing the box 
upon the smaller table and cutting the cord with his 
Pocket-knife.'] Ho, ho ! Avis of the Shimmering Hair! 
The first I've heard of that. [Attempting to force the lid 
of the box with his fingers.] Poor girl ! Her association 
with those self-absorbed youths in Westbourne Terrace 
was enough to crush the spirit of a six-weeks-old kitten. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Standing, watching him — pointing to a pair of cham- 
pagne-nippers ivhich she espies upon the sideboard.] Those 
champagne-nippers ? 

Rippingill. 
Excellent. [Applying the nippers to the box.] Dear 
friend, I own I am extremely sanguine as to the effect of 
these droll playthings. Heavens, I hope they include 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 35 

the Wriggling Snake ! The — Wriggling — Snake — is irre- 
sistible. ["Ike lid opens with a jerk.] Hah! a splendid 
assortment apparently. Hamley, I thank thee ! Ha, 
ha, ha ! do look at these ! \ Handing some grotesque dolls 
to Mrs. Lovette, after having divested them of their 
paper wrappers. J You'll assist me ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Where shall I put them ? 

Rippingill. 
On the top of the piano. \He comes upon an elongated 
air-ball, inflates it, and follows it as it flutters awayfrotn 
him.] The Flying Sausage ! 

[ TJiey visit the box in turn and, laughing at each 
object as it is disclosed, move rapidly about the 
room, placing the toys upon the various articles 
of furniture. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Taking a doll from the box.] The Golly wog. Ha, ha ! 

Rippingill. 
[ Taking out another doll.] Sunny Jim. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Examining the presentment of an eminent politician.] 
Who's this ? 

Rippingill. 
[Diving into the box.] Yes! No. Yes! The Dying 
Pig! Eureka! [Discovering a small cardboard box and 
giving it to Mrs. Lovette.] What have we here ? 
[Rummaging again.] I can find no snake. Gross neg- 
lect — culpable neglect. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Opening the cardboard box and producing a small t 



36 A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 

heart-shaped board which has two wheels attached to its 
broadest part and a piece of lead-pencil at its pointed end.\ 
Plafichette. 

RIPPINGILL. 

Planchette ? There's nothing laughable in that. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Evincing a certain familiarity with the apparatus. J 
Laughable, no ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

Why do they send such trash and omit the Wriggling 

Serpent? Dora 

[She lays the Planchette upon the oval table and 
they continue arranging the toys until the room 
has the appearance of a toy-shop. In the e?id, 
Mrs. Lovette sinks upoii the window-seat 
breathlessly, while Rippingill stands in the 
middle of the room surveying the result of their 
labors. 

Mrs. Lovette and Rippingill. 
Ah-h-h ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Superb ! 

Rippingill. 
[Pacing the apartment^ Dear friend, I repeat, I rest 
great hopes upon this display. [ With conviction.} This 
is irresistible. 

[Webbmarsh and Christabel appear in the 
hall. 

Rippingill. 
Hallo ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[ Taking a hat from the stand. ] Hallo ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 37 

RlPPINGILL. 

Knocked off work, you two ? 

Webbmarsh. 
We are going for a short stroll. [Coming into the 
room.] The atmosphere has become rather oppressive 
up-stairs. [Staring at the toys.] My dear Seymour ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Winking at Mrs. Lovette.] Ah, you are looking at 
my dolls. 

Christabel. 

[ Who also has taken a hat from the stand t joining her 
husband.] Oh ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Blandly]. Nice lot, aren't they ? This is my day for 
them. 

Webbmarsh. 
Your day ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Yes, I have them out and play with them once a month 
regularly. 

Christabel. 
Mr. Rippingill ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

A boyish practice — can't shake it off. You'd scarcely 
credit how I yearned for them while I was on my honey- 
moon. 

Christabel. 
[Aghast.] Haynes ! 



38 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 

[Nettled.'] Hush ! don't be apprehensive for our 
friend's sanity, Christabel. I imagine this to be another 
of his irrepressible jocosities. [Ironically.] Ha, ha ! Are 
you ready ? 

Christabel. 
Ha, ha, ha ! Quite. 

[ With their heads in the air, they turn away and 
disappear into the garden. The sky becomes 
overcast and the light in the room diminishes. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising.] You've put your foot in it again, Seymour. 

Rippingill. 
[In renewed astonishment.] Whew ! Webbmarsh ! 
[Suddenly.] By Jove ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Eh? 

Rippingill. 
The coast is clear ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Clear — for what ? 

Rippingill. 

Wait a minute ! 

[He runs out at the hall-door and returns imme- 
diately carrying the gardener's ladder. This 
he proceeds to plant against one of the beams of 
the ceiling. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Seymour ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 39 

RlPPINGILL. 

I couldn't have desired a more favorable opportunity. 
[He mounts the ladder nimbly and fumbles for 
something behind the beam. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Standing at the foot of the ladder.] Explain, or I up- 
set the ladder ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Gleefully.] Spare me ! spare me ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Shaking the ladder.] I won't ! 

[He descends a rung or two, holding the end of a 
thin cord which passes through the ceiling. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Showing her the cord.] A piece of cord. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
So I perceive. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Dear friend, the other end of this is attached to the 
bottom of the sofa. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Sofa ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

The sofa upon which the reviewer and his amanuensis 
sit and caress. It stands here — above my head 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Well? 



40 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Pointing to a doll.] A doll. [She hands him the dolt, 
and lie suspends it by the cord.] Dora, the episode of 
yesterday was no exceptional proceeding. I've observed 
'em from the garden ; Webbmarsh's eyes are seldom, if 
ever, upon his book. He squanders the flying hours — 
hours which he owes to the cause of literature — in spoon- 
ing. I apologize for the expression — spooning. [Sliding 
down the ladder.] Ha, ha ! | Contemplating the suspended 
doll] You follow my theory ? I evolved it in the middle 
of the night. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The doll should respond ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Nodding.] Even a kiss, the gentlest pressure of the 
hand, should produce a shiver. [Shouldering the ladder.] 
This must amuse Avis, hey ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Whoever is amused, it assuredly won't be Mr. and 
Mrs. Webbmarsh. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Of course not ; they remain in complete ignorance. 
[Moving across to the right.] There's the cream of the 
joke. [Pausing in the archway.] Would you believe it, 
old friend — I was drilling that hole in the ceiling at a 
quarter past six this morning! [Peplacing the ladder.' 
Ho, ho, ho! Irresistible! [Reentering. ] Dora, may 
ask for your assistance in testing the contrivance ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Walking away to the left.~] What next ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

I beg your pardon ; you misunderstand me. [In the 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 41 

archway.] You stay here and watch the doll while I, 
myself, go through the process of reviewing. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[At the bay-window.] Seymour, this is dangerous ; I'll 
have no hand in this. 

Rippingill. 

\ Injured.] Dora, oblige me [The pattering of 

rain is heard.] Raining ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Warning /y.] The Webbmarshes ! 

Rippingill. 
[ Leaving the archway^] Dash! [Calling to Webb- 
marsh and Christabel, who are seen shaking their hats 
in the hall.] Back? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Entering the room.] In the nick of time. 

Christabel. 

[Looking into the room and then disappearing.] Isn't 
it lucky we hadn't left the grounds ? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Glancing at the suspended doll as he turns down his 
coat-collar and brushes the rain-drops from his sleeves.] 
What's that? 

Rippingill. 
[Innocently.] That? Oh, that's a simple device for 
attracting the flies. 

WEBBMARSH. 

Thought it might be more of your tomfoolery. 



42 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

My dear Haynes ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[Moving towards the right. ,] Well, I'll get to work 
again. [Rippingill giggles incautiously. Webbmaksh 
turns sharply and regards him with suspicion. There is a 
violent burst of rain, then the downpour gradually ceases 
and the sky clears.] Good for the grass. 

Rippingill. 
[Controlling himself with difficulty.] Yes, I was lying 
awake during the night fretting about the grass. 

Webbmarsh. 

[Doubtfully.] Oh ! 

[He withdraws.* Rippingill throws himself upon 
the settee on the right, convulsed with laughter. 
The door on the left opens and Avis hurries in. 
She is wearing Trood's jacket over her shoul- 
ders. 

Avis. 
[Breathlessly, closing the door.] Oh, dear me ! what a 
storm ! 



Mrs. Lovette. 



Are you wet ? 



Avis. 
Mr. Trood is ; this is his blazer. 

Rippingill. 
[Rising.] Where is he ? 

Avis. 
Putting the boat away. I've persuaded him to ask 
Foley for a change of things. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IJLE 43 

RlPPINGILL. 

Very prudent. 

[As Rippingill takes the jacket from her, she dis- 
covers the toys. 

Avis. 
Why, what are these ? 

Rippingill. 
Those ? Look at them, my pet ; examine them. 

Mrs. Lovette and Rippingill. 
[Laughing encouragingly .] Ha, ha, ha! 

[She wanders round the room in a listless fashion. 
Rippingill and Mrs. Lovette, stretching 
their heads forward, watch her intently. 

Avis. 
[Apathetic ally ?[ Where do they come from ? 

Rippingill. 
[Laying the jacket upon the back of the armchair. ,] 
From town. Ho, ho ! I wired for 'em yesterday. 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[On the left.] Aren't they excruciatingly funny, Mrs. 
Rippingill ? 

Rippingill. 
[At the table on the right, inflating the Dying Pig.\ 
Avis— phu— Avis— phu ! The Dying Pig ! Phu ! 

Avis. 
What do you propose to do with them all, Seymour ? 

Rippingill. 
[Blankly.] To do with them ? 



44 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Avis. 
The coachman's child had better have a few, I suppose ? 
Then there's the cook's little lame nephew 

RlPPINGILL. 

My pet, nobody can feel more kindly disposed towards 
Mrs. Thompson's nuisance of a nephew than I ; but, at 
the same time, I admit I am slightly disappointed 

Avis. 
Disappointed ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

I had an idea that — ahem ! — that perhaps you 

Avis. 
I ? Oh, dolls — toys of any sort — never had much at- 
traction for me. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Crestfallen.'] Oh— ah ! 

Avis. 
The shower is over. [Picking up the jacket andmoving 
towards the hall.] I'll carry Mr. Trood's jacket up to the 
house and order it to be dried. 

[She goes into the garden and disappears. Mrs. 
Lovette and Rippingill sit, the former at the 
oval table, he in the armchair. 

RlPPINGILL. 
[Sighing heavily. ] Ah — h — h! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[/;/ sympathy.] Ah — h — h ! I am afraid my diagnosis 
is correct, Seymour. 

RlPPINGILL. 
[His head bowed.] Diagnosis ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 45 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Incurable. 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Groaning.] Oh ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Incurable. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Don't ! don't! 

{They lapse into silence, he staring at the floor, she 
playing with the Planchette. The suspended 
doll becomes animated, breaking into a dance. 
They look at each other wonderingly. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
\_Listening.~] Hark ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

{After consideration.'] Bees. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Discovering the cause of the sound.'} Ah ! The doll is 
dancing ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

Oh ! {Proudly, under his breath.'] What a success, 
Dora ! What a triumph ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Lost in admiratioji.] It is indeed ingenious, Seymour. 
{They twist their chairs round, to obtain a better 
view of the doll, and sit gazing up at it, ab- 
sorbed. 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Bitterly.] The impostor! The arch impostor ! And 



46 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

these are the men whose utterances influence public 
opinion ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Quietly, ,] Of course, it may be that he, or she, is 
seated there alone. 

Rippingill. 
Pshaw ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Or that he is merely scratching his ear. 

[ The dance increases in energy. 

Rippingill. 
Look! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Tenderly.'] You are right ; that can be nothing but 
intense, ardent affection. 

[He starts up, and stakes for the garden, as if to 
fetch Avis. 

Rippingill. 

Avis ! Avis ! [Checking himself and slowly return- 
ing.'] No ; I realize it — even this wouldn't do it. [Eye 
ing the doll ruefully.] She didn't notice it was hanging 
there! [M.KS.LovETT'Efngers the Plauchette again. The 
doll's dance ceases.] An interval ! The reviewer now 
salves his conscience with another paragraph or two. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Impulsively.] Seymour ! 

Rippingill. 
Dear friend ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 47 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Turning her chair to the table at which she is seated.'] 
Give me a sheet of paper. 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Crossing to the writing-table on the left.] A sheet of 
paper ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I am going to consult the Planchette. 

RlPPINGILL. 

The Planchette / 

Mrs. Lovette. 

The Planchette. If your wife's distressing malady is 
open to treatment, it's plain yours is at fault. {Taking a 
sheet of paper from him and adjusting the Planchette.] 1 
am going to ask the Planchette to suggest a means of 
bringing a smile to Mrs. Rippingill's face. 

RlPPINGILL. 

My dear Dora, surely you are too sensible to believe 
in that mischievous rubbish ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Every woman is at heart a witch. Lay your hand on 
mine. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Obeying her.{ Oh, if you 

Mrs. Lovette. 

Hush ! {Closing her eyes.] Shut your eyes and let 
yourself go— abandon yourself. {After a while.] It 
moves ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

You're wobbling it. 



48 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Involuntarily. 

Rippingill. 

Pickles ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising, huri.~\ Seymour ! 

Rippingill. 
I beg your pardon ; I withdraw the word, unreservedly. 
[She resumes her seat and they lay their hands on 
the Pla7ichette again, and again shut their eyes. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[In a whispcr.~\ We are writing. 

Rippingill. 

[Opening his eyes.~\ No ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Opening her eyes, ,] Ah, now you've spoiled it ! 

Rippingill. 
We have scribbled something. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Their heads bending over the paper. ~\ D — no, P 

Rippingill. 

N— or is it U? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
It's a U. P—U— what's that ? 

Rippingill. 
L? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 49 

Mrs. Lovette. 
L. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Two L's. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
P_U— doubie L. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Pull. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What suggestion is wrapped up in Pull ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

None. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Wait, wait ; you're so hasty. Pull ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

\_Walking away to the right.~\ Pull — pull — pull — 
pull ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Your wife has just returned from a pull on the 
river ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

That leads nowhere. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Pull— pull— pull— pull ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

{His face suddenly lighting icft.~\ Dora ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Found it ? 



50 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

Pullinger ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What is a pullinger ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Pullinger is a person. My old friend Pullinger. Pull — 
the first syllable of his name ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising.'] Ah ! And if you hadn't interrupted the 
Planchette 

RlPPINGILL. 

It is extraordinary. And still more extraordinary that 
I haven't thought of Jack before ! [Goitig to the telephone 
and ringing violently. ~\ If he's in town to-day, I'll have 
him down. [Speaking to the telephone.] Is that Foley ? 
. . . Foley, put me on to Mr. Pullinger — Mr. John 
Pullinger, not his brother Frank — Mr. John Pullinger of 
Kensington Court . . . at once . . . thank you. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Crossing to the right. ~\ Who is this gentleman ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Leaving the telephoned] He and his brother are the 
great biscuit people. You eat them with ices. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes, but 

RlPPINGILL. 

They're now a company — F. and J. Pullinger, Limited ; 
John's the Chairman. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes, but why should a biscuit-baker ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 51 

RlPPINGILL. 

My dear Dora, John Pullinger knows no more about 
biscuits than he does about anything else. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What. 

RlPPINGILL. 

No, no, no ! I mean, there is nothing, positively 
nothing, that Pullinger doesn't know something about. 
Without exaggeration, he is the most intelligent man in 
London. Great heaven, the information that chap can 
give you upon the most varied subjects ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
And has he — has he a strong sense of humor ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Doubtfully. ~] H'm! N-n-no, I should hardly say he 
matches you, or me, in that department. But in a man 
of such universal powers you can't reasonably expect a 
single quality to predominate. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
He doesn't exactly sound like the miracle-worker we 
are seeking. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[A little testily.'] Oh, he's not a buffoon, my dear 
Dora, if that's the article you're in search of. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Walking away to the left.~\ Really, Seymour ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Rubbing his head.] I beg your pardon [The tele- 
phone bell rings ; he runs to the instrument.] Hallo, 
hallo I ... I want Mr. John Pullinger. . . . 



52 A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 

I'm Mr. Rippingill. . . . Oh, is that you, Jack? 

How are you, my dear fellow ? That's 

right. And how is that sweet, cheery old lady, your 

mother? . . . Eh — what ? . . . Bless me, 

I forgot ! ... Of course ; how stupid of me ! 
. Ah, well, she lived to a good, ripe age, didn't 
she? [Mrs. Lovette laughs.'] One moment, Dora. 
[Resuming. ,] I say, Jack ! I need your advice upon a 
matter of considerable importance to me — vital impor- 
tance. You're a marvel at helping a man in a difficulty. 
. . . Yes, you are, you wise old owl! . . . Are 
you engaged to-day for luncheon ? . . . No? . . . 
Then come down and make the acquaintance of my 
wife. . . . Eh ? . . . Yes, I'm referring to my 
new wife. [Mrs. Lovette again laughs.] Half a mo- 
ment, Dora. [Resu?ning.] Eh ? . . . Oh, that's 
jolly ! . . Half-past one ; the trains are most con- 

venient. . . . Oh, motor, if you prefer it. . . . 
You've five motors? . . . Well, come in the five. 
. . Ha, ha, ha ! . . . God bless you ! [Leav- 
ing the telephone gaily.] My dear Dora, this has lifted 
quite a load from me. Jack ! [Mrs. Lovette has re- 
turned to the table on the left. He grasps her hand.] Was 
I discourteous? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sitting at the table.] Fiddle-de-dee ! 

Rippingill. 
Ah, Dora, my head — this serious anxiety ! But now — 
I have a presentiment — Pullinger ! [The doll dances 
again.] Ah, ha ! The reviewer! Whoop! 

Mrs. Lovette and Rippingill. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

[He skips away to the piano and strikes up a 
lively tune. Mrs. Lovette, with closed eyes, 
resumes experiment alizhur with the Planchette 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 53 

RlPPINGILL. 

[As he plays .] John Pullinger ! 

[Tkood — in his skirt-sleeves, and carrying the 
cushions of his boat— passes the window, on his 
way to the honse. 



END OF THE FIRST ACT 



THE SECOND ACT 

The scene is the same as in the preceding act. There is a 
slight alteration in the arrangement of the furniture. 
The settee on the left now has its back to the oval table 
and faces the settee which is on the right. A single 
chair only remains at this table. Of the two other 
chairs, one stands before the -writing-table ; one in the 
ce?itre of the room, by the piano. 

All the toys have been removed with the exception 
of the Plane hette and the suspended doll. The ladder 
also has disappeared. 

The door on the left is closed, the hall-door open. 
[Mrs. Lovette is lying, propped up by pillows, 
upon the settee on the lejt, deep in a novel. 
Christabel and Webbmarsh are seen in the 
garden. Crossing from the left, they pass the 
window and enter the hall, whei'e they hang 
their hats upon the stand. 

Christabel. 
{Looking into the room.'] Glorious afternoon, isn't it ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Perfect. 

Christabel. 
Seems almost a sacrilege to immure oneself. But 
when there is work to be done 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes, duty is duty. 

[Webbmarsh and Christabel disappear and 
Mrs. Lovette resumes her reading. After a 
54 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 55 

while, Rippingill e?iters the hall, coming 
from the right. 

Rippingill. 
{Searching for Mks. Lovette.] There you are ! {Ap- 
proaching her] Where's Avis ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
On the river, with young Trood. 
Rippingill. 
Good ! And the Webbmarshes ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Glancing upward.] Reviewing. 

Rippingill. 
Ha, ha ! {Rubbing his hands.'] This is our oppor- 
tunity. I've got him here. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Mr. Pullinger? 

Rippingill. 
He is waiting under the eucalyptus. Are you ready ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Putting her feet to the ground, with no great eagerness.] 
Quite. 

Rippingill. 
{Hesitatingly.] Er — you are impressed by him, Dora ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Forgive me for asking — he's not inclined to be a leetle 
—a leetle f 

Rippingill. 

A little— ? 



56 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Oh, I admit he has an enormous store of general 
knowledge. There's no disputing that. 

Rippingill. 
And yet is a man of the utmost simplicity — massive, 
comprehensive simplicity. [Mrs. Lovette yawns.~\ It 
always strikes me that a couple of hours of Pullinger do 
more for us than our ablest historians in demonstrating 
the qualities that have made England what she is. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Possibly. \_Passing her hand across her brow.~\ I dare 
say it's the hot weather 

Rippingill. 
I'll call him. [He goes to the hall-door and whistles. 
Presently he is joined by Pullinger.] Mrs. Lovette is 
alone, Jack — prepared for our consultation. 

[Pullinger enters the room. He is a serious- 
looking, solidly-built man of fifty, with a mous- 
tache which he strokes ruminatively at intervals 
and a fine, square, lofty brow. He walks 
rather stiffly, as from gout, with the aid of a 
cane. Rippingill carefully closes the hall- 
door. 

Pullinger. 
[Addressing Mrs. Lovette.] Let me see, what was I 
telling you when we rose from the luncheon-table ? Ah, 
yes — where to buy your tea. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I've dealt at Ropers' for years. 

Pullinger. 
Go to Cramp & Peeble — a tiny shop in Foubert's 
Place, an insignificant turning on the left-hand side of 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 57 

Regent Street as you face south. Put it down before you 
forget it. [To Rippingill.] Rip, a pencil and some paper 
for Mrs. Lovette. 

Rippingill. 

[Delightedly] Yes, jack. 

[He fetches several sheets of paper and a pejicil 
from the writing-table, and gives them to Mrs. 
Lovette. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I already have a pile of memoranda about one thing 
and another. 

PULLINGER. 

I found it under your chair after you'd left the dining- 
room. 

[He restores to her a number of scraps of paper 
which he produces from his coat-pocket. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
They must have slipped off my lap. 

Pullinger. 
Cramp & Peeble 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Scribbling impatiently] Left-hand side of Regent 
Street 

Pullinger. 
Ah, but Foubert's Place 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes, yes, a magnificent turning 

Pullinger. 
An insignificant turning 



58 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ha, ha ! [Moistening the point of her pencil.'] Of 
course. 

PULLINGER. 

I notice you moisten your pencil, Mrs. Lovette. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
It's a habit — [defiantly repeating the action] a habit. 

PULLINGER. 

[Pleasantly. ~\ A bad one, often contracted through the 
inferiority of the lead. 

Rippingill. 
[On Mrs. Lovette's right, nudging her shoulder.] I'll 
be bound, Jack, that you could put us in the way of get- 
ting hold of a decent lead-pencii. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Under her breath.] No, no ! 

PULLINGER. 

I can — the best that's manufactured. 

Rippingill. 
[Admiringly .] I said so ! 

PULLINGER. 

Bousfield — an obscure artists' -colorman in the Fulham 
Road. 

Rippingill. 
[To Mrs. Lovette.] Isn't he wonderful ! Upon my 
word, Jack ! 

PULLINGER. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Jot it down while you think of 
it. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 59 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Taking another sheet of paper ~\ Bousneld 

PULLINGER. 

I can't recall the number. It's a few doors past the 
" Stag," where the omnibuses stop. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Where the 'buses stop! No detail is too trivial for 
him. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Writing?] ' ' Stag ' ' — Finchley Road 

Pullinger. 
Fulham Road, [Moving away to the armchair.] Men- 
tion my name. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Betiveen her teeth. ~\ I will. 

Pullinger. 
[Silling.] Well, I was about to tell you— it is a blend 
of China and India. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What is ? 

Pullinger. 
The tea. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Distractedly.'] But we've finished with the tea. 

Pullinger. 
When you've noted the proportions. Two-thirds 
Darjeeling Orange Pekoe, one-third Paklum Kaisow. 
[Mrs. Lovette' s papers become hopelessly deranged. 



60 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Some fall to the ground, and these Rippingill scrambles 
for and returns to her.\ Now you have a mixture. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
You're right ! 

PULLINGER. 

D-a-r-j double e-1-i-n-g Orange Pekoe 

{There is a gentle movement on the part of the sus- 
pended doll. 

Rippingill. 

[Advancing to Vullinger.] Jack — Jack ! [Point- 
ing to the doll.'] There — there ! 

PULLINGER. 

[Glancing at the doll.] Oh, that's the impish trick 
you've been giving me an account of? [To Mrs. 
Lovette.] P-a-k-1-u-m K-a-i-s-o-w. 

Rippingill. 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

PULLINGER. 

Rip, you are incorrigible ! 

Rippingill. 
It will break my heart to remove it. 

PULLINGER. 

By-the-bye, should either of you require any cheaply- 
dressed dolls for gifts at Christmas, I am acquainted with 
a thoroughly deserving person — the daughter of a de- 
ceased naval officer 

Rippingill. 

Marvelous! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 61 

PULLINGER. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Jot the address down. Miss 
Tickle — 8, Appleton Terrace — Berkhamstead 

Mrs. Lovette. 
But I thought we were to assemble here to discuss a 
remedy for poor Mrs. Rippingill's infirmity ! 

Rippingill. 
We were — we were ; that is the motive for this gather- 
ing. Jack, my wife will be back to give us our Paklum 
Kaisow 

PULLINGER. 

Yes, yes ; thanks for the hint. [To Mrs. Lovette, 
gravely f\ Spell it precisely as you would do it. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
As I would do what? 

PULLINGER. 

Tickle— Miss T-i-c-k-1-e 

Rippingill. 
[To Mrs. Lovette.] Dora, I have furnished Jack — 
Mr. Pullinger — at some length, I fear 

PULLINGER. 

No, no. 

Rippingill. 
With the salient features of the case. And he agrees 
with us — don't you, Jack? — that it is a remarkably puz- 
zling business. 

Pullinger. 

Remarkably — remarkably. [Stroking his moustache.'] 
A voiing woman 



62 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

Three-and-twenty. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Allowing for miscalculation, five-and-twenty 

PULLINGER. 

[Shaking his head.~\ No, I should say three-and-twenty 
on the outside. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ah! 

PULLINGER. 

I mean, at the outside. 

RlPPINGILL. 

At any rate, young. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Married to a man still in his prime 

RlPPINGILL. 

[With drooping lids. .] Thank you, Dora. I am forty- 
four. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Who is extremely well-to-do — oh, more — rich 

RlPPINGILL. 

In friends, at least. 

PULLINGER. 

She exchanging, I understand, the most modest sur- 
roundings 

RlPPINGILL. 

Boarding-house in Paddington 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 63 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Tomato soup, halibut, and mutton 

PULLINGER. 

For a condition which closely approaches luxury. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Exactly. 

PULLINGER. 

By-the-wav, if you, Rip, or you, Mrs. Lovette, are 
ever asked to recommend a moderate-priced but excel- 
lent boarding establishment 

Mrs. Lovette. 

{Under her breath.'] My patience ! 

PULLINGER. 

There is one in Keppel Street, Bloomsbury, at the cor- 
ner of the mews on the right. 

Rippingill. 
We mustn't lose time, Jack. 

PULLINGER. 

Going east— Madeira Mansion. 

Rippingill. 
{Hastily, to Mrs. Lovette.] Put it down— down 
with it. 

PULLINGER. 

And yet, reverting to your wife, in spite of her altered 
position— enhanced status— liberal allowance— [> Rip- 
pingill] I am assuming liberal allowance 

Rippingill. 
{With dignity.] You may, confidently. 



64 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
You ought to keep nothing from us, Seymour — from 
Mr. Pullinger. 

Rippingill. 
[Hurt.~] I have no such desire. Do you accuse me of 
the attempt ? 

Pullinger. 
No, no. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I apologize sincerely. 

Rippingill. 
Five hundred a year. 

Pullinger. 
Ample. 

Rippingill. 
Pro rata. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Generous to excess. Her trousseau amounted to little 

enough, I expect. Her trousseau ? [Rippingill is 

silent.~\ There ought to be no reserve, Seymour. Her 
trousseau ? 

Rippingill. 
Six. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Hah ! And after all you have heaped upon her ! 

Pullinger. 
Not a smile. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 65 

RlPPINGILL. 

Never a smile. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Devil a sm — never a smile ! Now, Mr. Pullinger ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

Now, Jack ! 

Pullinger. 

{Stroking his moustache. ~\ Well, the conclusion I arrive 
at — bearing in mind that Mrs. Rippingill is at an age 
when the animal spirits should be at their height 

RlPPINGILL. 

Yes, Jack ? 

Pullinger. 

Is that, either the young lady was born without a sense 
of humor— [Rippingill sits in the chair by the piano de- 
jectedly\ — in which contingency, Rip, you will have to 
make the best of your bargain 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ah, I was afraid, dear Seymour ! 

Pullinger. 
Or that this is an uncommon instance of a sense of 
humor remaining dormant in defiance of nature, and not- 
withstanding the stimulating artifices which have been 
freely employed to arouse it. 

Rippingill. 
In the latter event ? 

Pullinger. 
Ordinary expedients having failed, it is clear that there 
is nothing for you but to take measures of a drastic de- 
scription. 



66 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

Drastic ? 

PULLINGER. 

I don't counsel them. I recollect that when, in 93, my 
brother and 1 turned our concern into a company 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To herself.'] Oh, lord ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

Yes, yes, Jack, but the measures — the measures ? 

PULLINGER. 

[Deliberately.'] A violent upheaval of the stagnant 
forces. 

RlPPINGILL. 

A violent upheaval ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Of the stagnant forces ! 

PULLINGER. 

Brought about by the administering of a shock — a se- 
vere shock. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Sounds pretty horrible. 

PULLINGER. 

The object being to shift, so to speak, at one stroke the 
centre of gravity. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising.'] Oh, no, no, no ; inhuman! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Rising.] Oh, too cruel, Jack ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 67 

PULLINGER. 

Desperate, I agree ; and I repeat, I am far from urging 
the experiment. {Tapping his cane against the legs of the 
settee on the right.'] Where did you find all this light 
stuff, Rip ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Impatiently.] Oh, dash the light stuff ! 

PULLINGER. 

There's a shop in Vienna, the finest in the world for 

this kind of thing 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Oh! 

PULLINGER. 

Karntner Strasse. Number — number? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
But what sort of a shock ? 

PULLINGER. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Put it down before you forget it. 
Rothberger & Steinmetz 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Emphatically.] Mr. Pullinger 

RlPPINGILL. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Oh, stick it down — stick it down ! 
[Snatching up her notes, she seats herself at the oval table 
and makes a pretense of writing.] Jack, what sort of a 
shock? 

Pullinger. 
Such a shock as would result from the news, abruptly 
communicated, of some heavy calamity 



68 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPFINGILL. 

Trumped-up? 

PULLINGER. 

Obviously ; so that the sensation of relief which en- 
sued 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Incredulously.] Would do the job. Ah, my dear 
Jack ! 

PULLINGER. 

Might do it ; I don't vouch for it. But I defend the 
strict logic underlying the theory. Misfortune— deliver- 
ance ; rain — sunshine 

RlPPINGILL. 

Floods of tears — shrieks of merriment. For exam- 
ple, if I were to get myself thrown out of my dog- 
cart ? 

PULLINGER. 

Certainly. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Or your automobile ? 

PULLINGER. 

Yes. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Seating himself on the settee on the left.'] With you as 
chauffeur, that could easily be managed, Jack. Ha, ha, 
ha! 

PULLINGER. 

Financial ruin may serve equally well. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 69 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Picking up the book which Mrs. Lovette has been 
reading^] Poor Avis ! Restore her to auntie for a fort- 
night, eh ? More sealing-wax soup, more woolly halibut, 

more sinewy mutton 

[Mrs. Lovette, with closed eyes, has been ma- 
nipulating the Planchette. Suddenly she utters 
an exclamation. 



Oh! 
Eh! 

The Planchette ! 



Mrs. Lovette. 

PULLINGER and RlPPINGILL. 

Mrs. Lovette. 



RlPPINGILL. 

Oh, are you at that Planchette again, Dora? 

PULLINGER. 

[Rising and crossing to Mrs. Lovette.] Planchette? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Showing him what the Planchette has written.'] I 
asked the Planchette to supply a key to a method of pro- 
curing the violent upheaval 

PULLINGER. 

[Stooping to read the writing.] D — i — v 

Mrs. Lovette. 
" Divorce " ! Isn't it queer — every letter ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Referring to the book.] Of course ! You've been sat- 
urating yourself with this, Dora. [Quoting the title] 



70 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

"Prince Kurasco's Divorce." [Throwing the book down 
irritably.] Mudie is continually annoying me in this way. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Pullinger, putting her finger to her tip.'] How in- 
considerate of us ! Hush ! 

Rippingill. 
[Overhearing her.] Inconsiderate! Ha, ha, ha ! Not 
you, dear old friends. [Rising and walking away to the 
smoking-tabie, where he fills his pipe.] Luckily, I'm not 
as thin-skinned as all that. 

PULLINGER. 

Thin-skinned! Why should you be, Rip? You weren't 
the party in error. [Stroking his moustache.] Divorce ! 
Ha! strange, following upon our talk- 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Why ? 

PULLINGER. 

I was reading, the other day, a report in one of the 
papers of a singular piece of negligence on the part of a 
man who, like Rip, had been under the painful necessity 
of divorcing his wife. 

Rippingill. 
[Shortly.] Oh, ah? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising and coming to Pullinger as he sits upon the 
settee on the left.] Negligence ? 

Pullinger. 
H'm ! What were the circumstances? Yes, yes ; he 
had married again too. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 71 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Sitting on the settee on the right, cramming tobacco 
into his pipe. ~\ Ha, ha! very interesting. 

PULLINGER. 

It was that which rendered his neglect the more disas- 
trous. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Neglect ? Neglect to do what ? 

PULLINGER. 

To apply to the Court, according to the prescribed 
form, to have his Decree Nisi made absolute. The cause 
of the oversight slips my memory for the moment. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
He should have done it six months after ? 

PULLINGER. 

Before remarriage, at all events. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
So his second marriage was a — a what-d'ye-call it? a 
fizzle ? 

PULLINGER. 

Void. Fortunately the Court, after a lot of cavilling, 
took a lenient view of the fellow's conduct. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
But in the meantime he had to explain to Number 
Two ? 

PULLINGER. 

That she was not, in fact, his wife. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What a shock ! 



72 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

PULLINGER. 

Shock — quite so. Now, there was a shock, if you 
please. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The poor woman's humiliation — suspense ! 

PULLINGER. 

Uncomfortable sojourn with her parents or guard- 
ians 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Months of tomato soup and halibut perhaps 

PULLINGER. 

Ending, we'll hope, in a hearty laugh at the mishap. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I see ! Mr. Pullinger, you are wonderful ! \_Che eking 
her enthusiasm.] Oh, but surely you don't propose that 
Seymour should invent such a tale ? 

Pullinger. 

No, no, no. It's merely curious — the Plancheite put- 
ting the idea into one's head. 

\_An ina?'ticulate sound proceeds from Rippingill, 
and his pipe falls to the floor. Turning to him, 
Mrs. Lovette and Pullinger are startled 
by the expression upon his face. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Advancing to him.'] Seymour ! 

Pullinger. 
Rip ? 

Rippingill. 
J— Jack 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 73 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What's wrong ? Are you ill ? 

PULLINGER. 

[Joining Mrs. Lovette.] You don't feel well, Rip ? 

Rippingill. 
D — Dora, this is an extraordinary development 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Development ? 

Rippingill. 
M — m — most unlooked for 

PULLINGER. 

What is unlooked for ? 

Rippingill. 
My dear friends, I — I — I am embarrassed at having to 
inform you — my Decree Nisi has not been made ab- 
solute. 

Pullinger and Mrs. Lovette. 
Not! 

Rippingill. 
No. [Rising unsteadily.'] Barlow — old Barlow — Bar- 
low 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Barlow ? 

Rippingill. 
My solicitor — you remember him, Jack ? — Barlow died 
within a fortnight of the hearing of my case ; [dazed'] 
and then — [clasping his brow] excuse me — then his man- 
aging clerk, also a solicitor 



74 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

PULLINGER. 

Yes, yes ; Alfred Parker Gilmour — convicted of 
fraud 

Rippingill. 
He misappropriated a spinster-lady at Wimbledon 

Mrs. Lovette. 
No, no. 

Rippingill. 
I beg your pardon — converted her to his own use 

PULLINGER. 

Her money, you are trying to say 

Rippingill. 
Yes — and so the whole Barlow concern ceased to exist. 
Oh, my dear friends ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
But haven't you been near another lawyer ? 

PULLINGER. 

What about your marriage settlement — your will ? 

Rippingill. 
The aunt wished me to employ a man she knows at 
Bath. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Interfering old idiot ! 

PULLINGER. 

Didn't he raise the point ? 

Rippingill. 
No. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 75 

PULLINGER. 

This is rather a serious blunder, Rip. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Rather ! 

PULLINGER. 

Do you mean to assure us solemnly that it utterly es- 
caped you ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

I pledge you my honor the matter has never crossed 
my mind till this moment. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
As a specimen of gross carelessness ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

I can only suppose that from tlie day I met Avis 

Mrs. Lovette. 

You lost what you are conceited enough to call your 
head. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Oh, if you hadn't been abroad, Jack ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Pacing the room.'] Well, here's a nice to-do ! 

PULLINGER. 

[Following her example. .] Dear, dear, dear! Bless 
my soul and body ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What do you advise, Mr. Pullinger? 



76 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

PULLINGER. 

Merciful powers ! This reminds me of a dispute I was 
once mixed up with, over a patent. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Oh, does it! 

PULLINGER. 

You have heard I've invented an automatic luggage- 
label ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Hysterically.'] No ! Ha, ha, ha ! 

PULLINGER. 

It's too heavy at present — four pounds, seven 
ounces 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Don't ! I shall shriek aloud ! 

PULLINGER. 

Yes, yes ; we're wandering from the subject. [Sitting 
on the settee on the right.] Our poor friend ! [To Rippin- 
gill, who is seated in the bay-window, his back towards 
them, gazing at the prospect^ Rip, how long have we been 

chums? Rip 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[Anxiously^] Seymour ! 

[Rippingill rises and comes forward, icily com- 
posed. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Wiping his lips.] Ahem! My dear old Jack— my 
dear old "Dora — [correcting himself] my dear Dora — I 
don't know whether I am entitled to have a voice 

PULLINGER. 

Who is, if not yourself ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 77 

RlPPINGILL. 

But if yes, I should be disposed strongly to deprecate 
anything approaching undue excitement. 
Mrs. Lovette. 
{Behind the armchair^ It's all very well 

RlPPINGILL. 

It may be that my lengthy service in a Government 
office, where hardly a year passed in which some question 
did not arise demanding prompt and intelligent treatment 
—it may be, I say, that my official training gives me a 
certain advantage over both of you in dealing with un- 
expected crises. 

PULLINGER. 

Considerable advantage. 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Encouraged.] I am in a difficulty — let us concede 
that 

PULLINGER. 



Grave difficulty. 
Ghastly. 



Mrs. Lovette. 



RlPPINGILL. 

{Faltering.'] Granting the ghastliness of the gravity of 
the difficulty — granting the gravity of the ghastliness — of 
the 

Pul linger. 
{Helpfully. .] Granting it, Rip ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Rallying.'] Granting it, what then? Why, the diffi- 
culty has to be cracked, the nut dispelled — er — faced 

PULLINGER. 

We understand. 



78 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RIPPINGILL. 

Meanwhile it is essential to preserve a stiff head, hold 
one's upper lip erect — er 

PULLINGER. 

All right. 

Mrs. Lovette. 

The other way round. 

Ripping ill. 

And to take care that one's every act shall continue to 
be informed by a sense of humor. We must not forget 
that, disconcerting as this deplorable complication is to 
those immediately involved, to the callous onlooker it is 
not without elements of gaiety. [Sitting on the settee on 
the left.'] It is in this spirit, therefore, with the support ot 
my friends, that I propose to set about dispelling the — 
cracking the — facing the Gordian knot in which I find 
myself plunged. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Advancing- to Rippingill.] Bravo, Seymour ! You 
read us a lesson. I am sorry 1 allowed myself to be car- 
ried away. [Rippingill takes her hand.] I was think- 
ing of your wife 

PULLINGER. 

{Stroking his moustache.] Or whatever she is for the 
time being 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Poor thing ! We may summon our sense of humor to 
our aid ; but she / 

PULLINGER. 

[Suddenly^ Hah ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Startled.] What now ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 79 

PULLINGER. 



The shock ! 
Eh? 



Mrs. Lovette. 



PULLINGER. 

[Rising.] The shock ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ah, yes ! 

PULLINGER. 

My dear Rip, this misfortune — this temporary misfor- 
tune — may prove a blessing in disguise. Here we have, 
thrust upon us, the necessity of putting my theory to the 
test. 

RlPPlNGILL. 

[Abstractedly. 1 Theory ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Jogging his shoulder.] The violent upheaval 

RlPPlNGILL. 

Of course — stagnant forces. Ha, ha ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Walking away excitedly as Pullinger comes to Rip- 
PINGILL.] Oh, gracious ! 

Pullinger. 
[Standing over Rippingill.] You follow the line of 
procedure ? You break the distressing news to the young 
lady — her entire mental and moral organization reels 
under it. Then comes a period of doubt and apprehen- 
sion. This we will call, for future identification, the 
Interregnum. [Rippingill rises feebly.] So far, so good. 
[Buttonholing Rippingill.] You apply to the Court — 
the Court sympathizes, if not with you, with her, That 



80 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

is the period of Revulsion. Again you go through the 
ceremony of marriage, and — unless I am woefully mis- 
taken — she departs for her second honeymoon wreathed 
in smiles. That is the Climax. 

Rippingill. 
[Biting his nails.] Ha, ha ! Pretty rough time till 
then, Jack. 

PULLINGER. 

Well, well, but your sense of humor 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[On the other side <?/" Pullinger.] You are resolved to 
take it all lightly, Seymour. 

Rippingill. 

{Walking to and fro.'] Haven't I said as much? 
[Snapping his fingers .] Lightly! [The doll dances .] Ah, 
dear old Haynes is up-stans, isn't lie? Bring him down. 
[Mrs. Lovette runs out, ana footsteps are heard rapidly 
ascending and descendi/ig the stairs. Rippingill con- 
sults his watch anxiously^ Quite a happy accident — all 
my best friends round me. 

Pullinger. 
[With gusto, hobbling about.] Nearing the tea-hour? 

Rippingill. 
[Replacing his watch.] Yes. 

Pullinger. 
[Tugging at his moustache.] Ah ! ah ! 

Rippingill. 
[Snatching a flower from a vase and sticking it in his 
coat — scowling at Pullinger as he does so.] You relish 
the situation, Jack. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 81 

PULLINGER. 

Nothing, nothing since the inception of my luggage- 
label has held me in so tight a grip. 

[Mrs. Lovette returns out of breath, mid joins 
Pullinger on the left. She is followed by 
Webbmarsh, who enters quickly, looking about 
him and sniffing. His hair is ruffled, and 
one of /lis locks is tied up with a colored ribbon. 

Webbmarsh. 

Eh — eh? I don't detect anything. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Detect ? 

Webbmarsh. 
Didn't you say there was a smell of burning ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Shaking her head.~] No. 

[Christabel hurries in and clings to Webb- 
marsh's arm. 

Webbmarsh. 
{Patting her hand reassuringly^ It is all right, dearest ; 
there's no cause for alarm. 

Christabel. 
Is it out? 

Webbmarsh. 
We misunderstood Mrs. Lovette, Christabel 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I apologize for approaching the seat of learning 

Webbmarsh. 
Learning — burning — ah ! The door was rattled with 
such violence 



82 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Christabel. 
[Faintly.'] Oh! 

Webbmarsh. 

[Passing her across to the settee 011 the Ieft.~] Recover 
yourself. [Mrs. Lovette fetches a carafe of water and a 
tumbler from the sideboard.] The fact is, 1 happened to 
be in the thick of an intensely interesting chapter- 

RlPPINGILL. 

[On the right with an attempt at airiness.] Entirely my 
fault, Haynes; the interruption proceeded from me. I 
— ah — I — I've something to tell you 

Christabel. 
[Pushing Mrs. Lovette aside and jumping up.] 

Haynes ! 

[She removes the ribbon, which matches the trim- 
ming of her dress, from Webbmarsh' s hair. 

Webbmarsh. 
Oh — ah — yes. [In explanation.] Sharp attack of 
headache — an excellent counter-irritant 

PULLINGER. 

[Hastening to him.] Do you wish to know of an in- 
fallible cure for a headache, Mr. Webbmarsh ? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Sententiously.] Is there a more efficacious one than 
the ministering hand and unremitting solicitude of a de- 
voted wife ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Absorbed in his own affairs.] Apropos of wives, dear 
old friend, would it surprise you to learn that you — ah — 
ha, ha ! — that you have the advantage of me ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 83 

Webbmarsh. 

Advantage ? 

PULLINGER. 

Fold an ordinary pocket-handkerchief so that it forms 
a bandage not exceeding four inches in width 

Webbmarsh. 
Thank you. 

Rippingill. 
Yes, I — I — ah — ha, ha! — I'm not married, Haynes. 

Webbmarsh. 
Not married ? 

PULLINGER. 

Soak it with one gill of pure spirit of wine 

Rippingill. 
When I say I am not married, I mean I am not mar- 
ried to the lady who for the last few weeks has honored 
me by bearing my name. 

PULLINGER. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Give me a scrap of paper. 

Webbmarsh. 
[To Rippingill.] Really ? 

Christabel. 
\_Who is again upon the settee on the /eft.'] Oh, Mr. 
Rippingill, you terrible man ! How can you ! 

Rippingill. 
[Earnestly.] No, but really, really, Haynes, I 

Christabel and Webbmarsh. 
[Laughing perfunctorily.] Ha, ha, ha ! 



84 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

PULLINGER. 

[Handing Webbmarsh a piece of paper.~\ Jot it down 
while you think of it. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Haynes 

Webbmarsh. 
Ha, ha, ha ! [To Pullinger.] Jot what ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Excuse me, Jack 

Pullinger. 
[To Webbmarsh.] Fold an ordinary pocket-handker- 
chief 

Webbmarsh. 
[Producing a "fountain" pen from his waistcoat 
pocket, irritably. ~\ Oh, yes, yes, yes 

RlPPINGILL. 

Jack, may I have the benefit of my friend W T ebb- 
marsh's undivided attention for a minute or two ? 

Pullinger. 
Certainly, certainly. 

Webbmarsh. 
[To Rippingill.] I'm listening; [writing] " — spirit 
of wine " ; you go on with your little joke 

RlPPINGILL. 

Joke ! [With dignity.'] My dear Haynes 

Pullinger. 
[To Webbmarsh.] What pen is that you carry ? 

[Rippingill sinks exhausted on to the settee on the 
right. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 85 

Webbmarsh. 
{Sitting in the armchair.'] One of de la Hay's. 

PULLINGER. 

{Producing his own pocket-pen.'] This is the ne plus 
ultra 

RlPPINGILL. 

{To Mrs. Lovette, appealingly.] Dora ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 

{Coming forward— to Christabel.] Mrs. Webbmarsh, 
the information Mr. Rippingill has been struggling to im- 
part to your husband is perfectly accurate. 

Christabel. 
Mrs. Lovette ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Our generous host and hostess are not at present en- 
titled to consider themselves married people. 

Christabel. 
Great heavens ! Haynes ! 

Webbmarsh. 
Eh? 

Christabel. 
{Rising, her eyes flashing^ Haynes, this is scarcely a 
fitting time for preparing pocket-pens ! 

Webbmarsh. 

Christabel ? 

Christabel. 
Don't you hear ! It appears that Mr. Rippingill hns 
spoken the truth. The lady we have been induced to 
accept as Mrs. Rippingill ! 



86 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 

What? [Turning to Rippingill.] No, no, no ; impos- 
sible. 

Rippingill. 
\_With a weak smile."] Many things are improbable, 
nothing is impossible — my favorite aphorism. 

[Pullinger discreetly wanders away into the hall. 
Webbmarsh rises and confrojits Rippingill. 

Webbmarsh. 
I shall feel obliged, Rippingill, in the first place, by 
your refraining from confounding an aphorism with an 
apothegm ; in the second 

Mrs. Lovette. 
My dear Mrs. Webbmarsh— my dear Mr. Webb- 
marsh 

Webbmarsh. 
In the second 

Mrs. Lovette. 
When you have been put in possession of all the cir- 
cumstances 

Rippingill. 
You will see that they have a distinctly humorous side. 

Webbmarsh and Christabel. 
Humorous ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes, yes. The poor dear man has omitted to have his 
Decree Nisi made absolute. 

Webbmarsh. 
Omitted ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 87 

RIPPINGILL. 

Ha, ha, ha ! Entirely slipped my memory, Haynes. 
Ha, ha ! 

Webbmarsh. 

[Joining Christabel.] My darling, I cannot ade- 
quately express my regret that this revelation, if it had to 
bo made, has been made in your presence. 

Christabel. 

Well, but, Haynes ! 

Webbmarsh. 
This, however, I do insist upon— that your ears shall 
be sullied by no unsavory details ; although, happily, 
you would be unable to grasp their full import. 

Christabel. 
[Advancing to Rippingill incredulously.'] But, Mr. 
Rippingill, do you solemnly sit there and expect us to 
believe that you never remembered to get your Decree 
rounded off ? 

Rippingill. 
Yes, Mrs. Webbmarsh. 

Christabel. 
[Shrilly.] You didn't rush into Court almost before 
your six months were up ! 

Rippingill. 
[Rising.] No. 

Christabel. 
Oh! Why, that's the very first thing that would occur 
to me ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Involuntarily.] Ha, ha, ha ! 



88 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 

Ma'am! [Drawing Christabel away.'] Christabel, 
your ingenuousness is open to misconstruction. [Facing 
Rippingill.] I can tolerate much, Rippingill, in a 
wanton age, but not that you should have allowed my 
wife — this young wife of mine ! — to be received into an 
establishment where, to employ no harsher term, the re- 
lations between host and hostess are of an irregular char- 
acter. 

Rippingill. 

[Losing his temper.] Look here, Webbmarsh ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[Coming behueen t/iem] Seymour 

Rippingill. 
You'll pardon me if, at this juncture, any question af- 
fecting your young wife becomes, to my mind, of minor 
importance. 

Webbmarsh. 
Minor ! 

Christabel. 
Hush ! We are under Mr. Rippingill's roof, Haynes. 

Webbmarsh. 
No, this is not the main building ; this is an out- 
house. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Minor importance! [Referring to Christabel.] Of 
course, she is of minor importance for the moment. We 
all are, except the little woman who has to be slapped in 
the face directly with this awful intelligence. 

Webbmarsh. 
Has to be ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 89 

Christabel. 

Has to be ! What, isn't she aware ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
No • or you wouldn't be here, or I— enjoying ourselves 
as we're doing. The stupid muddle has only just been 
discovered. 

Webbmarsh. 
My dear madam, my dear Seymour, I have been la- 
boring under a slight misconception. 

Christabel. 
Haynes, what a tragedy we are assisting at ! 

Webbmarsh. 
I confess, Christabel, that we ought to have been more 
prompt in assuming the ignorance of this ill-starred lady. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Hah! 

Webbmarsh. 
But my self-reproach is lightened by the reflection 
that my attitude was due to the ambiguity of our friend s 
utterances. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Ambiguity ? 

Webbmarsh. 
{Taking out his watch.'] Unfortunate ambiguity. 

RlPPINGILL. 

I will endeavor, then, to avoid ambiguity, Webbmarsh, 
in mv method of informing you that, no matter how un- 
satisfactory your visit to Taplow will have been to you, 
it has been no less so to me. 



90 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 
[Looking at his watch.'] U there is a decent train 

Chkistabel. 

No, no, Haynes; I will not forsake this girl in such an 
emergency. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I should think not, indeed. Seymour, no rupture. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Ignoring Mrs. Lovette and advancing to Webb- 
marsh.] You were asked here — 1 frankly avow it — to be 
entertaining — funny 

Webbmarsh. 
Funny ! 

Christabel. 
Funny ! my husband ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Funny. Oh, don't imagine that I have forgotten — 
that I shall ever forget— your story, with imitations, of 
the Bandy-legged Ballet. 

Christabel. 

The Bandy-legged Ballet ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Bandy-legged ? 

Christabel. 
[Elevating her eyebrows.] Haynes, what is this ? 

Webbmarsh. 

\Uneasily7] Dearest, an idle reminiscence of a sub- 
urban pantomime -. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 91 

Christabel. 
With imitations ! 

Rippingill. 
Ha ' How often have I seen you, in response to a 
general invitation, pirouetting round my jovial bachelor 
board ! Omnia mutantur- / 

Christabel, 

[Flouncing- to the window in a pet.'] Oh ! 
Webbmarsh. 

^^^^h^r^^Ld has seated Inn, elf 
at the piano. He now commences, in a heavy, 
laborious manner, to play a tight tune The 
instrument being "set" with its back to the 
spectator, the player is out of sight. 

Rippingill. 
Who's that? {Discovering Pullinger— to Mrs. Lov- 
ette.] Stop him ! [Dropping on to the settee on the left, 
holding his head.'] On, stop him ! 

[Mrs. Lovette hurries to Pullinger. Webb- 
marsh and Christabel are indulging in a 
lively altercation. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Mr. Pullinger— Mr. Pullinger 

Pullinger. 
r Thumping at the keys.'] Rip, you should treat yourself 
to one of those ingenious piano-players which are all the 
rage. 

Rippingill. 
\Groaning.] Should 1 ? 



92 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Pulling ek. 
I can give you an invaluable tip. The Simplicitas — 
incomparably the best and cheapest. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sitting in the chair by the piano.] Phew ! 

Christabel. 
[In the distance, to YVebbmarsh.] You swore I knew 
your past ! 

Webbmarsh. 
You do, you do. 

Pullinger. 
In oak, forty-two guineas. Jot it down while you think 
of it. 

RlPPlNGILL. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Jot it down — down with it ! 

[Mrs. Lovette flies to the oval table and writes, 
as Webbmarsh advances, with an injured 
air, dancing with bandy-legs before Chris- 
tabel. 

Christabel. 
[Eyeing him sternly.'] Ho, to be sure ! 

Pullinger. 
[Playing.'] Hirschlers'— left-hand side of Maddox 
Street, going west — mention my name 

Rippingill. 
[Rallying under the influence of Webbmarsh' s dance.] 
Immense, dear old friend! [Clamping his hands.] Ha, 
ha, ha ! Enormous ! Brilliant ! 

[Avis enters, at the door on the left, accompanied by 
Trood, who carries her cape and sunshade. 
The door remains open. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 93 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[Rising. ] Seymour ! 

[She crosses over to Pullinger and shakes him 
by the shoulder. He stops playing and Webb- 
marsh, seeing Avis, walks away to the 
right. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Jumping up excitedly. ~\ Go on, Haynes ! The twid- 
dling movement ! Haynes, twiddle ! 

Christabel. 

[Haughtily .] Certainly not, Mr. Rippingill. 

Avis. 
\_To everybody sadly. .] Ah, please don't let me interfere 
with your enjoyment. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[To Avis.] If you had been here only a second earlier, 

my pet ! Irresistible ! 

Avis. 
[Taking the pins from her hat — in dismal tones. ] I 
think it so very kind of Mr. Webbmarsh to dance for 
us in this hot weather. 

[She retires to the bay-window and Mrs. Lovette 
assists her to re?nove her hat. TROOD joins 
them. 

Pullinger. 
[Coming to Rippingill — in a low voiced Rip, shall I 
withdraw ? 

Rippingill. 
Withdraw ? 

Pullinger. 
While you 



94 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

While I— what ? 

Pullinger. 
Administer the shock. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Dash it, you don't propose that I should blurt it all out 
now, with a long evening before us! 

PULLINGER. 

[ Disappointed '.] No ? [Pulling his moustache. ~\ 
When ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Miserably.] After dinner, perhaps, so that she may be 
borne straight off to her bed. 

PULLINGER. 

[Brightening.'] Well, we must look forward to after 
dinner. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Biting his nails again.'] Look forward ! 

PULLINGER. 

Come, come ; your sense of humor 

RlPPINGILL. 

Ha, ha! yes, yes. Still, one can't help 

PULLINGER. 

/ know. My dear Rip, console yourself with this — 
I feel precisely as you are feeling for at least a month 
before I address the shareholders at our annual general 
meetings. 

RlPPINGILL. 
Do you, Jack? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 95 

PULLINGER. 

Sssh ! 

[He seats himself upon the settee on the left as Avis 
advances. 

Webbmarsh. 
\_Who has been in consultation with Christabel — 
standing behind the armchair, in a marked manner. \ 
Rippingill, I dropped a rather costly turquoise-and- 
enamel shirt-stud in my dressing-room last night. It 
belongs to a set given me by my mother. My wife and I 
are going up to the house to renew our search for it. 

Rippingill. 
[Behind his hand, to Webbmarsh.] No disclosure till 
this evening. Postpone your search till after dinner. 

Avis. 
[To Christabel.] But why not let the servants hunt 
for it ? 

Christabel. 
[Rushing at Avis and embracing her.'] Oh, you sweet, 
sweet thing ! 

Avis. 
[Startled.] Mrs. Webbmarsh. 

Christabel. 
[To Webbmarsh.] I can't help it, Haynes. [To Avis, 
tearfully.'] My darling, forgive my husband's little fic- 
tion. Haynes has no shirt-studs, dearest ; he wears but- 
tons — and, oh, I shall be in the grounds, close at hand, 
when you need me. 

Avis. 
When I need you ! 



96 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Christabel. 
{Kissing her violently. ~\ Yes, yes, yes, I intend to share 
this terrible trouble with you. Ah, we are nearly of the 
same age, are we not ? 

Avis. 
Trouble ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
\_Be hind the oval table, to herself.] Meddler ! 

[ Throwing up his hands, Rippingill sinks on to 
the settee o?i the right. 

Christabel. 
[Joining Webbmarsh, with a sob.'] Come, Haynes ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[To her, as they depart.] Your impulses are fine, 
Christabel, but you have stamped me as a liar. 

[They go into the garden. Pullinger rises, 
stroking his moustache eagerly. Mrs. Lov- 
ette moves to Avis' s side. 

Avis. 
[Looking from one to the other.] What is it ? What is 
it ? [Entreatingly.] Oh, what is it ? 

Rippingill. 
[Rising.] Er — Trood, my dear boy 

Trood. 

[Who has been watching the proceedings with concern, 
coming forward.] Eh — yes ? 

Rippingill. 
I — ah — I've just received some news — er — my wife's 
aunt 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 97 

Avis. 
Auntie ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

A lady advanced in years 

Trood. 
Sorry. 

RlPPINGILL. 

No, no, nothing serious ; but if you'd take two whiffs 
of a cigarette in the garden 

Trood. 
With pleasure. 

RlPPINGILL. 

I dare say Webbmarsh will give us permission to have 
tea up-stairs ; join us there in five minutes. 

Trood. 
I will. 

\He passes through the archiuay and disappears. 

Avis. 
Aunt Amy — she is unwell ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

She isn't exactly unwell, my pet 

Avis. 
Then she is — ah ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

No, no, no ; 1 fancy she \s going to be unwell. 

Avis. 
Going to be ! 



4 

98 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

Er — that is, upset. 

Avis. 
Upset at what ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

At your returning to her protection for a while, Avis. 

Avis. 
I ! Return to my Aunt Amy ! [Advancing to him."] 
Oh, why are you so mysterious? Why deceive me? 
Speak plainly ! 

[Pullinger, getting rid of his stick, takes the 
carafe of water and the tumbler from the oval 
table. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Er — er [To Mrs. Lovette.] Dora ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Avis.] My dear young lady, a most disagreeable 
discovery has been made in the course of this otherwise 
pleasant afternoon. 

Avis. 
Discovery ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
You see, your husband's solicitor — your husband's late 
solicitor — your late husband's solicitor — ahem! — Mr. 
Rippingill's solicitor 

Pullinger. 
[fogging her elbow with the water-bottle. ~\ Water. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Eh? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 99 

PULLINGER. 

\Warningly.~] Have some water ready. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Don't fidget me. [ 7b Avis.] Seymour's solicitor — Mr. 
What's-his-name ? — Mr. Thing-a-my 

Rippingill. 
Barlow 

PULLINGER. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Ready with the water. 

Avis. 
He has absconded ? 

Rippingill. 
In a sense. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
He died. He died, unluckily, before he — before 

Rippingill. 

Before 

Pullinger. 
Before completing certain indispensable formalities in 
— in — in connection with a case [losing himself ~\ in which 
he represented the united interests of'the shareholders of 
this 

Rippingill. 
Shareholders ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 

What on earth ! 

Avis. 
Well! Well, well ! 



L.o* G ' 



100 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Now, my child, I am convinced you will be brave — 
heroic 

Avis. 
Yes, yes, I will be strong ; I will be 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Recollecting that the calamity which engulfs you is not 
attributable 

Avis. 
[Banting.] Oh ! oh ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 

Is not in any way due 

[Pullinger has poured out some water. He now 
passes it to Mrs. Lovette, who thoughtlessly 
takes a gulp. 

Pullinger. 
[Regaining the glass. .] No, no ; it isn't for you. 

Rippingill. 
I think, Dora — if you will suffer me to say so — I think 
that, in making this communication to Avis, you are 
selecting language which is gratuitously alarming. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Hotly. ~\ Am I! [Turning away and seating herself 'in 
the chair by the piano. .] Select your own language. 

Rippingill. 

[Hastening to her.~\ My dear friend ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Do it yourself! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 101 

RlPPINGILL. 

After all these years of intimacy, surely, surely 

[Avis drops on to the settee on the right. Pul- 
linger goes to her, deposits the water-bottle 
and glass on the small table, and seats himself 
in the armchair. 

PULLINGER. 

{Dragging his chair nearer Avis.]' Listen ! Can you 
hear me? 

Avis. 
[Faintly.'] Yes. 

Pullinger. 
The Decree Aisi pronounced in the case of Rippingill 
versus Rippingill, Bowen, Fletcher, Hedderwick, and 
Rideout 

Avis. 
Go on. 

Pullinger. 
There were no more. That Decree Nisi has not, 
owing to a peculiar combination of circumstances, been 
made absolute. 

Avis. 
[Sitting upright.'] What — what does that mean? 

Pullinger. 
It is necessary to appeal to the Court to regularize 
your position. Meanwhile 

Avis. 

Meanwhile ? 

Pullinger. 
You go back to your Aunt Halibut — to your Aunt 
Amy 



102 A WIFE WITHOUT A S31ILE 

Avis. 
Why — why should I ? 

PULLINGER. 

My dear young friend, you can't continue to — to — to 
reside with a gentleman who is no longer — who has 
never been — your husband. 

Avis. 

Never — not ! [Rising unsteadily.] Oh ! [Rip- 

pingill and Mrs. Lovette have retreated to the bay- 
window to settle their differences. He now comes forward 
and Avis totters towards him.'] Seymour ! 

PULLINGER. 

[Again seizing the water-bottle and tumbler.] I've told 
her. 

Avis. 

[ To Rippingill.] You — you are not my husband ! 

Rippingill. 

Avis 

Avis. 
We — we are not married ! 

Rippingill. 
M-m-m-my pet, I shall place myself in the hands of 
an eminent firm of lawyers the very first thing on Mon- 
day morning. They will advise me how I stand. Per- 
sonally, I have no doubt that the Court will receive our 
explanation with the utmost amiability — I hope, even 
with hilarity. Thank heaven, the English bench is 
rich in judges with a sense of humor. [She sways.] 

Dora ! 

[Mrs. Lovette brings forward the chair which 
stands by the piatio. Avis sinks into it. 
Foley and Bates appear in the archway 
carrying the Ira, etc. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 103 

Rippingill. 

[To the servants,] Tea up-stairs— tea up-stairs 

Mrs. Lovette and Fullinger. 

\ To the servants.] Up-stairs. 

[The servants withdraw. Christabel and 
Webbmarsh are seen in the garden. They 
peer in at the window and then move away. 
Fullinger offers Avis water ; she drinks. 

Avis. 
But— but— but, Seymour, suppose the Court should— 

should refuse ? 

Rippingill. 
Out of the question. They may censure me in a 
slight degree ; they may strike Barlow off the rolls-no, 

they can't do that 

Avis. 
Or— suppose we— suppose we didn't make any appli- 
cation to the Court 

Rippingill. 
Avis! 

Avis. 
[Her head drooping.] And-and that the mistake was 
allowed to remain uncorrected ! 

Rippingill. 
[Leaving her side indignantly.] Upon my word, my 
pet, I'd rather you called me a villain at once * 

[ There is a brief pause. Then she raises her head 
and a beautiful smite irradiates her face. 

Avis. 
[ With a long-drawn sigh.] Ah-h-h-h ! 



104 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

PULLINGER. 

[Looking closely into herface.~\ She smiles ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
She smiles ! 

Pullinger and Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Rippingill, who turns to them.'] A smile ! 

Avis. 
[Rising, holding her heart.] Oh ! oh ! [Laughing 
hysterically.] Ha, ha, ha, ha ! How — how amus- 
ing ! 

Pullinger and Mrs. Lovette. 
[To each other.] Amusing ! 

Avis. 
[Retreating to the right, wiping her eyes.] D-d-don't 
look at me ; it has been such a shock 

Pullinger. 
[To Mrs. Lovette.] A shock ! Ah, ha ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Pullinger, waving the Planchette.] Brava, 
Plane hette I 

Avis. 
Let us — let us have tea. [Going to Rippingill and 
patting his cheeks.] You — you old darling ! Ha, ha, 

ha! Tea, everybody ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

[She runs out into the hall and disappears. Rip- 
pingill follows her as far as the archway and 
there remains, gazing after her with an air of 
dissatisfaction. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 105 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Gratefully^ At last ! 

PULLINGER. 

[Hopping with delight^ Ho, ho, ho ! 
Mrs. Lovette. 

XSlaMn* him on the back.-] 1 repeat it— you are simply 
wondeVful [Shaking hands with Rippingill, who re- 
joins them.1 Seymour, I congratulate you. 

PULLINGER. 

[Fetching his stick, arid waving it in the air.] Rip, 
congratulations ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Throwing her arms round Rippingill.] I can't help 
it ; I'm so rejoiced. 

Rippingill. 
[Freeing himself from her embrace, unresponsively.] 
Thank you, Dora. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
X Pointing to Pullinger, who is now pacing the room at 
the back.] | Don' 't thank me ; thank him. 
Rippingill. 
[Walking away to the left.] Oh-ah-yes. 

PULLINGER. 

V Comine forward.] No, no, he has nothing to thank 
me foT The illegality of the dear old chap s second 
Tnion would have B come to light, sooner or later, without 
my aid. 

Mrs. Lovette. 

Still, the unerring accuracy of your theory ! 



106 A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 

PULLINGER. 

{Stroking his moustacjie, modestly. ~\ My dear lady, you 

would spoil a saint. 

RlPPINGILL. 

{Facing Pullinger, coldly^ I am sorry to appear 
hypercritical ; but, for the life of me, I fail to see where 
the unerring accuracy comes in. 

Pullinger. 
{Astonished. ] Eh? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Seymour ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

I don't recall that Pullinger' s theory provided for my 
wife — for Avis' s laughing at the disaster itself. I under- 
stood — I may be more than usually obtuse — 1 understood 
distinctly that the smile was to be reserved for a subse- 
quent occasion. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Reproachfully.] Oh, Seymour! 

Pullinger. 
Perhaps this is a little grudging. 

RlPPINGILL. 

There has been no Interregnum, you know. 

Pullinger. 

{Startled.'] Eh? 

RlPPINGILL. 

I put it to you — has there ? 

Pullinger. 
I — ah — I must concede 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 107 

RlPPINGILL. 

Ah ! Nor has the Revulsion occurred in the manner 
so confidently predicted. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Shaken.] That's true. 

RlPPINGILL. 

What has happened is, that it has been all Climax. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
\ Nodding gravely.] Yes, yes, novy one reflects-it all 
seemed to come In a lump, didn't it? [Eyeing Pul- 
linger uneasily.] Ahem ! 

PULL1NGER. 

[Thoughtfully stroking the floor with the tip of his cane 
-in a low voice.] Rip, where do you get your carpets ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[In an outburst.] Dash my carpets ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Shocked.] Oh! 

RlPPINGILL. 

I tell you I am not altogether satisfied with Avis' s be- 

ha v ior I [ The suspended doll dances vigorously. Me 

strikes his fist at it.] Gurrrh ! Confound that egregious 
reviewer and his gushing bride ! A lot they care for 
my misfortunes ! [Christabel and Webbmarsh have 
entered quietly at the door on the left. Having his back to 
the door, Rippingill * unaware of their presence. Ful- 
linger and Mrs. Lovette make faces at him and Pul- 
linger taps him with his stick.] By Jove. I » ^ve an 

A. B.C. laid on her dressing-table ! [ 7* Pullinger 

and Mrs. Lovette.] What— what ? 



108 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 
Rippingill ! 

Rippingill. 

[Turning.'] I — I beg your pardon 

\lhe servants — Foley and Bates — appear in 
the hall. 

Foley. 
[Standing in the archway, .] Tea is waiting, sir. 

Rippingill. 
[To Foley.] Who — who is in the upper room ? 

Foley. 
Mrs. Rippingill, sir— and Mr. Trood. 

\_77ie servants depart. 

Rippingill. 
[After a pause.] Trood ! ! 

[He makes for the staircase. Mrs. Lovette and 
Pullinger follow him, leaving Webbmarsh 
and Christabel watching the capers of the 
dancing doll in wonderment. 



END OF THE SECOND ACT 



THE THIRD ACT 

The scene remains the same, and the disposition of the fur- 
niture is exactly as at the beginning of the preceding 
act. A bed-pillow, a couple of blankets, and a suit of 
pajamas on the settee on the right give evidence that 
the settee has been slept upon. Some articles of cloth- 
ing — apparently cast aside overnight — a dressing- 
gown, and a couple of bath-towels litter the room, 
Lying upon the settee on the left, neatly folded, are a 
coat and waistcoat ; and upon the small table are a 
mirror, a case of razors, a strop, a hoi-water jug, a 
shaving-pot, a set of hair-brushes, and other toilet 
requisites. 

The Planchette has gone, but the doll still hangs 
from the ceiling. 

The door on the left is open, the hall-door closed. 
Outside, on the embankment-ivall, a man s bathing- 
dress is drying in the morning sun. 

[Foley is valeting Rippingill, who stands, hag- 
gard and aged, in the middle of the room. The 
man takes the waistcoat and coat from the settee 
on the left and puts Rippingill into them. 
There is a knock at the hall-door, and Foley 
goes to the door and opens it. Bates, the 
parlor-maid, enters, carrying Rippingill' s 
breakfast, the principal item of which is a soli- 
tary egg. 

Bates. 
{To Rippingill, who has seated himself upon the settee 
on the left.'] Your breakfast, sir. 

109 



110 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Rippingill. 
[Feebly.] Thank you, Bates. 

Foley. 
[To Bates, after she has set the tray upon the oval 
table. ,] Give me a hand, Olga. 

[The servants, eyeing Rippingill inquisitively, 
collect the things scattered about the room. 
Foley ', finding himse if overburdened, attempts 
to add the suit of pajamas to Bates's lighter 
load. 

Bates. 
You forget yourself, Mr. Foley. 

[They withdraw. Upon opening the hall-door, 
they encounter Webbmarsh and Christabel. 
The Webbmarshes enter as the servants de- 
part. 

The Webbmarshes. 
[To Rippingill, sternly .] Good-morning. 

Rippingill. 
Good-morning. 

Webbmarsh. 
May we ask how you have slept ? 

Christabel. 
We hope, fairly. 

Rippingill. 
Slept ! [Looking up at the doll.'] That doll has been 
dancing, almost without a pause, the whole night through. 

Christabel. 
[Piously.'] Retribution ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 111 

RIPPINGILL. 

I dozed at intervals, but only to dream of her— and 
young Trood. 1— I could declare it's jumping now ! 

Webbmarsh. 
No no, no! it's quite motionless. {Pointing to the 
breakfast-tray 7] I advise you to eat your egg. 
Christabel. 
[Advancing.-] Why don't you cut the disgraceful thing 
down, Mr. Rippingill, in a gentlemanlike spirit r 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Rising.! Because, madam, I am accused by your 
husband and yourself of having committed a gross breach 
of taste in hanging it there. 

Christabel. 
Can there be two opinions on the subject ? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Sitting on the settee on the right.'] You would defend 
your outrageous prank, Rippingill ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

With my last breath. The act was more appropriate, 
perhaps, to a sportive lad than to one whose bark is 
tossing heavily in the rolling forties ; but I am incapable 
of transgressing the rules of good breeding. [Christa- 
bel offers him a knife from the breakfast- tray. ~] No, that 
would be tantamount to confessing to a modicum of 
justice in the charge. Let other hands remove it. [pit- 
ting in the armchair.] How is my— how is Avis ? 
Christabel. 
Radiant. 

Rippingill. 
Her face retains that dreadful smile ? 



112 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Christabel. 
Dreadful ? 

Webbmarsh. 
I make no pretense to originality of thought or expres- 
sion when I remark that a woman's smiles are nature's 
jewels. 

[Christabel shows her teeth at Webbmarsh 
winningly. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Avis has a rich collection of gems, then. [Miserably.'] 
Are any steps decided upon, do you know ? 

Christabel. 
[To Webbmarsh.] Haynes, will you speak first? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Clearing his throat.] Ahem! Certainly. 

Christabel. 
[Coming to Rippingill.] In the meantime your egg is 
getting cold. 

Rippingill. 
[Rising.] Dash my egg ! 

Christabel. 
[Wincing.] Ssss ! 

Webbmarsh. 

[Rising.] Rippingill, my wife is unaccustomed to out- 
breaks of this kind. 

Rippingill. 
I beg your pardon. [Seating himself at the oval table 
and pour i? ig out his tea.] Well? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 113 

Webbmarsh. 
[Advancing to Rippingill.] The matter was thor- 
oughly threshed out over the dinner-table last night. 

Christabel. 
And again this morning, at breakfast. 

Webbmarsh. 

Christabel [She sits on the settee on the right.'] A 

letter — to the framing of which I have lent the assistance of 
a practiced pen — will accompany the communication you 
have already addressed to Miss Philpott. Pending the 
arrival of that lady from Bath, it is proposed that your 
existing domestic arrangements be strictly adhered to. 

Rippingill. 

Existing arrangements ? 

Webbmarsh. 
You continue to enjoy the sole and exclusive occu- 
pancy of this boat-house 

Christabel. 
While she remains at the villa. 

Webbmarsh. 
My darling 

Christabel. 
Forgive me, dear. 

Webbmarsh. 
While she remains, unmolested, in the more commo- 
dious building. 

Christabel. 
In my charge. 



/ 
114 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 
Under the chaperonage of my wife. You assent? 

Rippingill. 
[Rising, tea-cup arid saucer i?i hand.'] Oh, if propriety 
demands such a course 

Webbmarsh. 
If! 

Christabel. 
[ Wincing again.~] Ssss ! 

Rippingill. 

[Meekly, after sipping his tea.'] This place grows ex- 
cesbively chilly at dawn. I presume I may be allowed 
an extra blanket?' 

Webbmarsh. 

I think we may take so much upon ourselves, Chris- 
tabel ? 

Christabel. 
I feel sure she would desire it. 

Rippingill. 
\Falteringly.] I — I should like to be satisfied upon one 
point. Is — is Avis still obdurate ? 

Webbmarsh. 
Obdurate ? 

Rippingill. 
On the question of our ultimate remarriage? 

Webbmarsh. 

[7r? Christabel.] Christabel 

[Webbmarsh makes way for Christabel, who 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 115 

advances to Rippingill. She produces her 
pocket-handkerchief— a ring is knotted to one 
of its comers. 

Christabel. 
Mr. Rippingill, I have received instructions from my 
dear friend, Miss Meiklejohn, to restore you this. 

Rippingill. 
Meiklejohn ! Avis' s maiden name ! 

Christabel. 
[Putting the ring into his hand.~] With Miss Meikle- 
john' s regards and best wishes for your future. 

Rippingill. 

Her — her wedding ring 

[His cup shakes so violently in his saucer that it is 
in danger of falling. She takes both cup and 
saucer from him, and replaces them on the 
breakfast-tray. 

Christabel. 
[As she does so.~\ Permit me. 

[M RS. Lovette peeps in at the hall-door, sees Rip- 
pingill, and enters hastily. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Out of breath.'] Seymour 

Rippingill. 
Dora ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Shaking hands with him sympathetically .] What sort 
of night have you passed ? I am almost afraid to in- 
quire. 

Rippingill. 
Horrible. 



116 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ah, you are in no fit state to receive a fresh shock. 

Rippingill. 
Fresh ! 

Christabel. 
Something has happened ! 

Rippingill. 

[ Apprehensively .] Avis ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
She wishes to see you, Seymour ; she has an important 
announcement to make. 

Rippingill. 

Announcement? 

The Webbmarshes. 
Announcement? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
She — she is engaged to be married to Mr. Trood. 

[Rippingill sinks on to the settee on the right. 

Christabel. 
[Rapturously. ~\ Haynes ! 

Webb marsh. 

[To Christabel.] My darling, this romance grows 
hourly. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sitting in the armchair.'] I left them at the breakfast- 
table for barely a moment, and when I returned it was 
all over. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 117 

Christabel. 
[Sitting on the settee on the left.'] What a delightful 
young fellow ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[To Christabel.] I don't think I have told you, 
Christabel, that he has read my Influence of the Russian 
Aovelists, and Other Essays. 

Christabel. 
I am not surprised. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Tartly.] Well, you can't get off with that {or a wed- 
ding present, at any rate. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Dully, staring at the floor, and slowly rubbing his 
knees.] Nobody mentioned that Trood had been break- 
fasting up at the house. 

Webbmarsh. 
He arrived during breakfast. 

Christabel. 
We had our work cut out to persuade him to peel a 
peach. 

Webbmarsh. 
He has a rare independence of character — young 
Trood. 

RlPPINGILL. 

The viper! the snake in the grass! The double- 
faced ! 

Christabel. 
Oh ! cruelly unjust ! 



118 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 
I fancy, Rippingill, that if you could be induced to eat 
your egg you would form a more equitable estimate of 
Mr. Trood's conduct. 

Christabel. 
And of your conduct also, Mr. Rippingill. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising and reseating herself beside Rippingill.] It 
appears, Seymour, that this young man and woman 
have unconsciously been in love with one another for 
over a year. 

Webbmarsh. 
[Sitting in the armchair.~\ Each unsuspicious of the 
other's feelings; each equally oblivious to his own — of 
her own — his and her own — their own. — [Producing a 
note-book a?id turni?ig its pages. .] 1 wrote a brief descrip- 
tion last night of their curious mutuality of sentiment, the 
phraseology of which is slightly less involved. 

Christabel. , 
Yes, and their hearts' secret would have remained un- 
spoken, unguessed, but for the sudden disclosure of yes- 
terday. [Rising ecstatic ally. ~\ That it was which released 
the torrent ; and the pent-up waters, bursting down in 
their mad career every barrier of conventionality and 
circumspection, drew these young people together in a 
headlong, eager, lingering embrace. Oh, it's fine! it's 
purple ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[Taking out his pocket-pen. .] Christabel, will you favor 
me by repeating your eloquent tirade ? 

[She stands over him while he writes, dictating 
sentence after sentence. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 119 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ To Rippingill.] Ah, dear Seymour, one recalls now 
vviin painful distinctness Mr. Trood's account of the life 
at the boarding-house in Westbourne Terrace. 

Rippingill. 
{Gradually recovering his ideas.'] Mother Cul- 
ross's 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The second-floor landing 

Rippingill. 
Every evening before dinner. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The light entering at the colored window 

Rippingill. 

Avis of the Shimmering Hair ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes, the luxuriant coil at the back 

Rippingill. 
{Zaugking strangely.] Ha, ha, ha! 

{He rises and paces the room, a vindictive gleam in 
his eye. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Following him.] Ah, thank heaven, your sense of 
humor is beginning to reassert itself. {Encouragingly.] 
Ha, ha, ha! 

Rippingill. 
{On the left.] Ha, ha, ha ! Ho, ho, ho ! 



120 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 

\_Annoyed.~\ Tut, tut ! 

[ "lb escape interrupting, he transfers himself to 
the settee on the right. Christ abel joins him 
and, with impassioned gestures, continues dic- 
tating. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Facing Mrs. Lovette.] Dora, I understand you to 
say that Avis is anxious to meet me ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yes — yes. 

RlPPINGILL. 

I am prepared to receive her here. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I'll tell her. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Or I will wait upon her, by appointment, at the house. 
{Grimly facetious.] Ha, ha ! Is she At Home this 
afternoon ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Laying her hands upon his shoulders.'] Ha, ha ! Bless 
the man, he is in the old, happy vein again ! 

[She runs out into the garden and disappears. 

Webbmarsh. 

[Glancing at the retreating figure. ] A terribly distract- 
ing person. [To Rippingill.] Rippingill 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Muttering^ Avis of the Shimmering Hair ! Avis of 
the Shimmering [To Webbmarsh.] Eh? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 12 1 

Webbmarsh. 

[Rising, lapping Ins note-book.~\ I want you, when you 
have a minute or two to spare, to enable me to fill in a few 
lacuna in these notes of mine. 

Rippingill. 

Notes ? 

Webbmarsh. 
Notes concerning your unfortunate association with the 
charming young lady to whom 1 have been privileged to 
be of some small service. 

Rippingill. 
And, pray, with what object ? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Raising a hand.'] Sssh, sssh, sssh ! don't be hasty, 
Rippingill. The details, necessary as they are for my 
purpose, will be obscured by artistic treatment. It is 
possible that your connection with the finished product 
will escape recognition outside a limited circle. 

Rippingill. 
The finished product ! 

Christabel. 
[Sealed upon the settee on the right, opening her eyes 
widely.'] Haynes ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[Turning to her with a smiled] No wonder you com- 
plained of my restlessness last night, dearest. [Earnestly.] 
Christabel, it has long been my ambition to add to the 
store of the world's creative literature. 

Christabel. 
[Rising ; her hands clasped in admiration.] Oh ! 



122 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

What ! 

Christabel. 
\To Webbmarsh.] You are inspired by the startling 
events which have taken place here ?' 

Webbmarsh. 
I am. [Rippingill walks away wrathfully. Webb- 
marsh seats himself upon the settee on the left.'] I am con- 
vinced that the history of RippingiU's unprosperous con- 
jugal adventures furnishes a motive so unique, so power- 
ful, so prolific, that the intelligent public cannot fail to 
leap to it. 

Rippingill. 
\_Re turning. ,] Webbmarsh, this is an indelicate in- 
trusion on my private affairs. 

Webbmarsh. 
You have ceased to have any private affairs, Rippingill. 
You have become simply a human document. 

Rippingill. 
\_On the right.'] Human document ! 

Christabel. 
\To Webbmarsh, standing over him.'] You are right. 
Yes, what a novel it will make ! 

Rippingill. 
Mrs. Webbmarsh 

Webbmarsh. 
\Constrainedly.] A novel ? 

Christabel. 
\Closing her eyes.] I picture the design on the binding. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 123 

RlPPINGILL. 

Do you ? 

Webbmarsh. 
Ahem ! As a matter of fact, my present inclinations 
tend rather towards the drama. 

Christabel. 
[Dubiously.] The drama ? 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Hotly.] The drama ! 

Webbmarsh. 

\_To Christabel.] Surely you will not deny, Christa- 
bel, that the drama stands desperately in need of reha- 
bilitation ? 

Christabel. 
Deny it ! Nobody ever denies that. But 

RlPPINGILL. 

Now, look here, Webbmarsh ! [Sitting in the arm- 
chair.] Whether or not the drama needs rehabilitating, 
I strongly protest against its being rehabilitated at my 
expense. 

Webbmarsh. 
How typically English ! [Rising and moving towards 
Rippingill.] Here, then, we have a theme glowing 
with igneous vitality. 

RlPPINGILL. 

I go further 

Webbmarsh. 
Supplied, too, by a section of middle-class society 
normally shallow and soulless ! 



124 A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

\_With increasing indignation^ Shallow and soulless! 

Christabel. 
\_Sitting iipon the settee on the left.~\ I have no wish to 
discourage you, Haynes. My only misgiving 

Webbmarsh. 
I fathom your thoughts, Christabel. Oh, but this is 
not a task for one of those fellows who have the tricks of 
their trade at their finger-tips. [Walking about between 
Christabel and Rippingill.] This is for a writer, im- 
petuous, ignorant, who can hurl, as it were, chunks of 
raw, bleeding humanity upon the boards. 

Rippingill. 
Webbmarsh, I may be — I am — decidedly raw 

Christabel. 
[Catching Webbmarsh' s enthusiasm. ~\ Ah, what a de- 
nonement for your play ! What an end ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[Pausing.'] I doubt if it should have an end, dearest. 
It should,' as I conceive it, belong to that order of dra- 
matic production which is all beginning — and middle. 
[With fervor.] But no end — no end ! 

Rippingill. 
\Sneeringly.] Hah ! endless ! 

Webbmarsh. 
Endless? [Peevishly.] No, no ; the custom of late din- 
ing and early supping restricts you to the hours of nine 
till eleven. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 125 

Christabel. 

[Seeing Avis.] Ah ! 

[Avis enters from the garden^ bright-eyed mid 
rosy, and as gay as a /ark. She is followed by 
Trood, who carries a brown-paper parcel. 
Rippingill moves over to the left as Chris- 
TABEL rustles at the young couple effusively. 

Christabel. 
[ Kissing Avis.] Oh, you naughty- waughty duckiest 
of ducklings! To go and get engaged behind your 
Christy-wisty's back ! 

Avis. 
[Lightly.'] Ha, ha, ha! 

Christabel. 
[Giving Trood her hand warmly.] Monster ! I ought 
to hate you ! 

Webbmarsh. 
[Shaking hands with Avis.] Miss Meiklejohn, I hope 
that future joys are to atone amply for the sorrows of the 
past. [Shaking hands with Trood.] Mr. Trood, may 
one fortunate man shake hands with another? 

Avis. 

[Approaching Rippingill.] Er— Seymour 

Rippingill. 
[Facing her, with forced composure.] Avis ? 
Avis. 

Mrs. Lovette has explained ? Vivian [Bringing 

Trood forward and presenting him to Rippingill.] My 
fiance. 

Rippingill. 
[Scowling at Trood.] Nice morning. 



126 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Trood. 
{Scowling at Rippingill.] Very. {Advancing to Rip- 
pingill, haughtily.~\ I am indebted to you for the loan, 
made through your servant yesterday, of certain articles 
of clothing. 

Avis. 
{To Rippingill.] After the shower, you remember. 

Trood. 
[Handing Rippingill the brown-paper parcel^ In the 
altered circumstances, my spirit of independence obliges 
me to return them without delay. 

Christabel. 
{With WEBBMARSH at the door on the left.~\ Noble ! 

Webbmarsh. 
Quite, quite. 

Rippingill. 
{After laying the parcel aside upon the oval table — to 
Trood.] You — ah — you keep the shoes? 

Trood. 
Shoes ? 

Rippingill. 
My shoes. {Pointing to Avis.] You are standing in 
them. 

Trood. 
{Walking away.~\ Ho ! a joke ! 

Avis. 
{Sitting upon the settee on the rig.ht.~] Ha, ha ! 

Christabel. 
{To Webbmarsh.] Exceedingly ill-timed. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 127 

Webbmarsh. 
Atrocious ! 

{The Webbmarshes withdraw reluctantly. 

Avis. 
{To Rippingill.] You may crack as many of your 
little jokes now as you choose, Seymour ; I don't care. 
I consider it so proper of you not to rave and go on un- 
reasonably : but, oh — I'll be absolutely candid with you 
— the tortures I have endured these last two months ! 

Rippingill. 
{Approaching her.~\ Tortures ! 
Avis. 
{Looking tip at the ceiling.^ What did you use, to bore 
that hole in the ceiling ? 

Rippingill. 
A gimlet. 

Avis. 
You goose, you could have done it with one of your 
funny stories. 

Rippingill. 

{Blankly ?± With one of my ! 

Avis. 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Rippingill. 
Do drop that maddening smile ! You — you — you 
mean to convey that you have been bored, Avis ? 

Avis. 
To death. {He sinks into the armchair^] Whew! 
{Closing her eyes. ~\ How often have I wished myself back 
in that dear, mouldy old Westbourne Terrace ! 



128 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

You were dull enough there, in all conscience, you 
ungrateful woman. 

Trood. 
[Advancing — wamingly.] Rippingill 

Avis. 
In a way, I was ; in the way that a girl may be dull 
without tumbling to it. But since — when I found out 
what Aunt Amy had done in saddling me on to a — to a 
gentleman with a sense of humor ! 

Rippingill. 
Aunt Amy ! Did she / 

Avis. 
Why, of course she did it. 

Rippingill. 
[His eyes bolting.'] By Jove, so she did ! 

Avis. 
What do you think ! [Rising and joining Trood on 
the left.] Vivian has been fearfully depressed, too. Oh, 
we've both had a terrible experience ! 

Rippingill. 
And for how long has this inexcusable reciprocity of 
feeling been existing between you ? 

Avis. 
We can't be positive. We suppose it began to grow 
imperceptibly at the very earliest stage of our acquaint- 
ance. 

Trood. 
[Approaching Rippingill.] On turning the matter 
over in my mind while shaving this morning, I came to 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 129 

the conclusion that the origin of my attachment to this 
lady is clearly traceable to our habit of meeting upon the 
stairs at Mother Culross's. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Ah, before dinner. 

Trood. 

And occasionally later. 

Avis. 
[Sitting on the settee on the left.'] There was plenty of 
gas-light on the second-floor landing. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Maliciously. ~\ That also, I assume, cast a flickering 
gleam upon the seated figure of Miss Meiklejohn? 

Trood. 
Exactly. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Ha, ha ! Avis of the Shimmering Hair ! 

Trood. 
[Gazing, mourjifully, at Avis' s head.'] Its tone was 
wonderful in those far-off days. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Rising, a strange expression in his face.] Well, my 
dear sir, I assure you you need have no apprehension of 
permanent deterioration. 

Trood. 
Permanent ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

The new tail is several shades more golden than the 
one she is wearing this morning. 



130 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Trood. 
The new ! 

Avis. 
Seymour! 

Rippingill. 
The tail which came home from Marcel's last week. 

Avis. 
[Rising.] Oh ! 

Rippingill. 
\_To Trood.] You must ask her to grace the dinner- 
table with it to-night. 

Trood. 
Avis! [She is guiltily silent.] Avis! [To Rippingill.] 
Coward ! [ Walking away to the right.] Poltroon ! 

Avis. 
[ To Rippingill.] You spiteful little toad ! 

Rippingill. 
{Unnaturally calm.] You have impelled me to this. 

Avis. 
Wasp ! Caterpillar ! 

Rippingill. 
The good that was in me has been stifled ; there is no 
enormity I could not commit. 

Avis. 

[Going to Trood.] Vivian 

[Foley appears, entering from the garden. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 131 

Foley. 
[To Rippingill.] I beg your pardon, sir— Mr. Pul- 
linger. 

Rippingill. 
Where ? 

Foley. 
Driving his motor-car up and down the road, sir. 

Rippingill. 

Up and down ! 

Foley. 
[At the oval table.] Yes, sir— over obstacles. 

Rippingill. 

Obstacles ! 

Foley. 
I've been laying down some nails and bottles for him, 
sir. [Taking up the breakfast- tray. ,] He wants you to 
come outside and see some ingstrordinary unpuncturable 
tires he's running with. 

Rippingill. 
Gurrh! [Furiously.] Tell Mr. Pullinger I'll see his 

tires ! 

[A startlingly loud double report is heard. Avis 
clings to Trood, and Foley lets the tray fall 
upon the table. 

Foley. 
[After a pause, quietly.] Bust ! 
Rippingill. 

[ With the utmost satisfaction.] Ah ! 

[With head erect, and hands under his coat-tails, 
he walks slowly out into the garden and disap- 
pears on the right. 



132 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Foley. 
[Taking up the tray again.'] Phillips lent me some nice 
little nasty French tacks, ma'am. 

Avis. 
[Silling in the armchair, sulkily. ] Foley 

Foley. 
[Nailing with the tray, in the archway '.] Ma'am ? 

Avis. 
The landau at half-past ten, to go to Cookham church. 

Foley. 
Cert'nly, ma'am. 

[Foley withdraws. Trood, with a heavy brow, 
walks across to the left and sits on the settee. 

Avis. 
[After a short silence.] Vivian 

Trood. 
Oh, it's of no consequence. Another illusion shat- 
tered ; that's all. 

Avis. 

The sneak! Those who dwell in glasshouses ! 

Fve seen his dentist's bill. 

Trood. 
It's a lack of frankness on a girl's part that hurts a 
man. You know how the fellows at Culross's admired 
you [passing his hand over the back of his head~\ on ac- 
count of — on account of 

Avis. 
[Shrugging her shoulders.] Fve forgotten. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 133 

Trood. 
Why, you sat to me and young Claude Harker for 
that alone. 



Avis. 



Very probably. 



Trood. 
[Bitterly.] You needn't have sat at all ; you might just 
as well have sent it round to the studio. 

Avis. 
[Whimpering.] Oh! oh! oh! [Trood rises and ap- 
proaches her. ' She transfers herself angrily to the settee on 
the right.'] No, thanks. I'm not to be bullied one min- 
ute and fondled the next. 

Trood. 
Oh, as you please. [Sitting in the armchair, staring at 
the carpet.] At any rate, this explanation will have 
cleared the air. 

Avis. 
[Sarcastically.] The shimmering 'air! 

Trood. 
[Regarding her with mingled surprise and reproach^] 
Hah! " As the husband is, the wife is ; thou art mated 
— or were recently — with a clown. And the grossness of 
his nature — evidently — has had weight to drag thee 
down." 

Avis. 
[Softening — in a low voice.] Rats ! 

Trood. 
Avis ! 



134 A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 

Avis. 
[Penitently.] Look here! I'll tell you what I'll do. 
I'll make a present of it all to my maid — Rhodes. Her 
hair is nearly the color of mine. And then, when we 
are married, if ever you have to paint a head that shim- 
mers, there she will be 

Trood. 
{Startled.'] My dear girl ! 

Avis. 
Eh? 

Trood. 
A maid — when we're married ! 

Avis. 
[Her jaw falling.] Oh, no, I — I suppose not. 

Trood. 
You — er — you had no maid in Westbourne Terrace. 

Avis. 
No, anybody that came along used to lace me up in 
Westbourne Terrace. 

Trood. 
[Rising and reseating himself by her side."] Dearest, 
why should we not endeavor to lead that blissful, dream- 
ful, memorable time over again ? 

Avis. 
[Pouting.'] Oh, I dare say I could manage to go back 
to the old, rotten, hugger-mugger style of existence if I 
tried. 

Trood. 
Really, if that's your view ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 135 

Avis. 
Sssh ! don't get wild. [Nestling ttp to hi/n.~] I realize, 
Vivian, that in the early days of our married life ours 
must be quite a humble menagerie. 

Trood. 

[Correcting her.'] Menage. 

Avis. 
[Her head upon his shoulder.'] Menage, do you call 
it? [Sighing.] Still— ah !— Rhodes is only a thirty- 
pounder 

Trood. 
Only a thirty-pounder ! [Starting up.] Avis, are you 
aware— have you the faintest notion— of the condition of 
Art in this country ? 

Avis. 
[With a nod.] It's a bit off. 

Trood. 
Precisely. Of course, there is always the chance of 
my disposing of one of my pictures under the terms of 
the Chantrey Bequest. But till then * 

[Trood. Precisely. As to my ultimately achieving 
fame and fortune, I have, happily, no misgivings — none 
whatever. But till then ] 

Avis. 
[Making a wry face.] Till then — economy. 

Trood. 
The strictest economy. 

* In places such as Northern Nigeria and the Leeward Islands, and in any 
country where an allusion to the Chantrey Bequest might prove mystifying, 
this speech should be omitted and the words between brackets spoken in its 
stead 



136 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Avis. 
[Dryly. ~\ Yes. Ha, ha! My stars, I've been there. 
[Webbmarsh and Christabel reenter at the 
door on the left, breathlessly, as if they have 
been running. 

Webbmarsh. 
Where is he ? 

Avis. 
[Rising.'] He? 

Christabel. 
Mr. Rippingill. 

Webbmarsh. 
We heard the report of a firearm. 

Avis. 
No, that was a tire of Mr. Pullinger's motor-car. 

Christabel. 
A tire ? 

Webbmarsh. 
A tire merely ! 

Christabel. 
We feared the unhappy man had expiated his faults by 
a bullet. 

Webbmarsh. 
[Sitting in the chair by the piano, .] It seems we need 
not have hurried, Christabel. 

Avis. 
{Going to Christabel — in a whisper?^ What do you 
think? Seymour has given my back-hair away. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 137 

Christabel. 
Never ! 

Avis. 
Gospel. 

Christabel. 
Brute ! [Securing her own hair.'] Is nothing sacred? 

Webbmarsh. 
[Rising, and coming to Avis, thoughtfully^ In one of 
Ibsen's plays there is the sound of a pistol-shot. 

Avis. 
But there has been no pistol-shot. 

Webbmarsh. 
No, no ; I thoroughly understand. 

[Pullinger enters, from the garden, followed by 
Mrs. Lovette and Rippingill. Pullinger 
is wearing an elaborate motor-costume. 



Pullinger. 
[Advancing to Avis, hotly.'] Good-morning, madam. 
[To Webbmarsh.] Good-morning, Mr. Webster. [To 
Christabel.] Good-morning. 

Webbmarsh. 
[To Christabel, joining her behind the oval-table — 
annoyed.] Webster ! 

Christabel. 
[To Webbmarsh.] Illiterate fellow ! 

Pullinger. 
[Frowning at Trood, who is behind the smaller table.] 
Pish ! 



138 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Trood. 
Sir! 

PULLINGER. 

[To Avis.] My good lady, you will excuse me for say- 
ing that I am indignant — profoundly indignant — at the 
treatment which is being meted out to my old friend Rip- 
pingill. 

Avis. 
Indeed ? 

Pullinger. 
I pronounce it — [to Rippingill] I have administered 
the same rebuke, Rip, on many occasions in dealing with 
our shareholders — [to Avis] I pronounce it to be neither 
more nor less than abominable. 

Avis. 
[To Pullinger.] M'yes, you are at the head of a large 
— business, aren't you ? 

Pullinger. 
I am. 

Avis. 
[Sweetly."] As a rule, do you find any very great diffi- 
culty in minding it? 

Webbmarsh. 
Ha, ha! 

Christabel. 
What a refreshing sense of humor! 

Rippingill. 
[Advancing — weakly.] Ha, ha, ha! I am bound to 

admit, Jack — he, he, he ! — T beg your pardon 

[Pulling er, stroking his moustache, turns away 
and joins Mrs. Lovette in the bay-window. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 139 

Avis. 
[Vivaciously.] Ha, ha, ha! [Calling to Mrs. Lov- 
ette.] Mrs. Lovette, some of us are going to Cookham 
church. The carriage is ordered for half-past ten. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sternly.] No, thank you, Miss Meiklejohn. 

Avis. 
[Counting.] Mr. Trood — Mrs. Webbmarsh — me. 
There's room for another. [To Webbmarsh.] You 
won't ? 

Webbmarsh. 
Why not ? I have never regarded church going as 
incompatible with the Higher Bohemianism. 

Avis. 
How jolly ! Shall we get ready ? [The Webbmarshes 
move to the hall-door. Avis finds herself face to face with 
Rippingill.] Oh ! [Distantly.] I am short of silver. 
Have you any ? 

Rippingill. 

[Surprised.] Silver? 

Avis. 
For my thanks-offering. [After a little consideration he 
selects a small coin from a handful of money and puts it 
into her extended palm. She views the coin with scorn.] 
You haven't such a thing as a microscope about you, 
have you ? 

Rippingill. 

[Sadly.] A week ago it would have been, at least, half- 
a-crown. 



140 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Avis. 
Stingy ! [To those at the window.] Tra, la, la ! 

[She joins the YVebbmarshes, and Trood, and 
they all take their departure. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Advancing.'] Ha ! This is her real nature come to 
the surface. Under the skin the creature is simply a pert, 
brazen hussy. 

PULL1NGER. 

[Also leaving the window, having divested himself of 
his motor-costume.'] No doubt of it. Like thousands of 
investors before him, Rippingill was misled by the pro- 
spectus. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Prospectus ? 

PULLINGER. 

By a pretty, pearly complexion. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
And a thin veneer of boarding-house gentility. 

PULLINGER. 

[Hobbling about the room.] I repeat, I am boiling with 
indignation. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Going to Rippingill, who is sitting on the settee on the 
right, and is staring into vacancy with watery eyes.] Still, 
it might be worse.' You are rid of her, Seymour. 

PULLINGER. 

That painting puppy — Trood ! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 141 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Seating herself beside Rippingill.] You must force 
yourself to look upon it in that light. 

PULLINGER. 

These Websters — Weblings ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Putting an arm round Rippingill' s shoulder.] And 
you must forget how your poor nose has been rubbed, 
metaphorically, in the gravel. 

Pullinger. 
To think that such people encumber the earth, walk, 
talk, sleep, eat the firm's biscuits ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Rippingill.] Come, come! Why, when I left 
you, to go back to the house, you were laughing heartily. 

Rippingill. 
Oh, Dora, I have laughed heartily for the last time. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Don't! don't, Seymour ! [He snivels.'] That's right; 
there's nothing like a good cry. 

[Pullinger' s attention is arrested by the attitude 
of the fair towards each other, and he stands 
watching- them with intense interest. 

Rippingill. 

[Searching his pockets for a handkerchief] Ah, if fif- 
teen years ago, when I first knew you, Dora — sixteen, 
isn't it ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Producing her pocket-handkerchief.] There or there- 
abouts. 



142 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPlNGILL. 

If I had then been wiser, less d-d-diffident 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Dabbing her eyes.~\ Hasn't Foley put a handkerchief 
in your pocket ? 

RlPPlNGILL. 

[Helplessly.'] No, the neglectful beast ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Giving him her handkerchief ;] Dear, dear old 
friend 

PULLINGER. 

[Suddenly. ~\ Great heavens ! 

Mrs. Lovette and Rippingill. 
Eh? 

PULLINGER. 

[Advancing.] Rip, what a glorious opportunity ! 

RlPPlNGILL. 

Opportunity ? 

PULLINGER. 

Of revenging yourself 

RlPPlNGILL. 

Revenging ! 

PULLINGER. 

Say rather, retaliating in kind. If Mrs. Lovette would 
but lend her cooperation ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I — I don't 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 143 

PULLINGER. 

And enable you to reconstruct your company — er — 
your household 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising and walking away.~\ You must really be more 
explicit. 

PULLINGER. 

[To Rippingill.] If you could show 'em all that you 
can transfer your allegiance as promptly as that vulgar 
young woman has done 

Rippingill. 
\_Rising.~] Jack ! 

PULLINGER. 

[Pointing to Mrs. Lovette.] Placing this amiable 
lady in a position of wifely authority in your establish- 
ment 

Rippingill. 
Jack — oh, Jack ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[On the left.'] An absurd suggestion ! 

PULLINGER. 

[To her.] Absurd! Putting other considerations 
aside, I contend that a friendship of fifty years' stand- 
ing 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sharply.] Fifteen. 

PULLINGER. 

Fifteen — could have no culmination more felicitous. 



144 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Hoarsely.] Revenge ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Seating herself upon the settee on the hft.~] Mr. Pul- 
linger 

RlPPINGILL. 

Revenge ! 

PULLINGER. 

Rip ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Crossing rapidly but unsteadily to Mrs. Lovette a?id 
sta?iding before her.~] Dora 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I won't hear of it. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Listen. I cannot bring you, I do not profess to bring 
you, the love of a callow, inexperienced youth. On the 
contrary, I am a man who has passed through the 
furnace. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Contracting her brows, .] Two furnaces. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Two, if you will. But I do offer you the devotion of 
one whose deep well of affection, however frequently the 
— the— the 

PULLINGER. 

[Helpfully.'] Bucket 

RlPPINGILL. 

No, no. 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 145 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Pullinger.] Pray, be silent. 

RlPPINGILL. 

However frequently it has been drawn upon, is far 
from dry. Dora 

Mrs. Lovette. 
\_Breathing heavily. ~\ This— this is as a blow to a de- , 
fenseless woman. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Speak, Dora. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
To say that I am dumbfoundered would be to give too 
faint an idea of the emotions that crowd upon me. 

RlPPINGILL. 

Speak. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Irritably.] I am speaking. What else am I doing ? 
[Shielding' her face with her hand.~\ Gentlemen, that you 
should both be present — both be witnesses 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Walking away readily. ,] I will leave you. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising. ~\ No, no ; not you. 

[Rippingill passes quickly through the hall and 

vanishes into the garden. 

Pullinger. 
[Moving towards the hall.'] Rip [To Mrs. Lov- 
ette.] He's gone. 



146 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Muck ruffled.'] I was about to tell him that I must 
have time, time to weigh everything carefully 

PULLINGER. 

[Returning to her— earnestly. ~\ Madam, at our age we 
have no time to spare. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
\_Walking away to the window. ~\ Speak for yourself, 
Mr. Pullingcr. 

PULLINGER. 

I do. Last night, for instance, lying awake feverishly, 
disturbed by thoughts of Rippingill's embarrassments, 
the notion occurred to me of constructing an air-pillow 
which should maintain a cool, equable temperature. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Peering out of the window in search of Rippingill.] 
A highly original idea. 

PULLINGER. 

The Pullinger Pillow, a Boon for the Sleepless ! And 
do you imagine, my good lady, that I intend to take time 
over it ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Leaving the window, .] You will excuse me 

Pullinger. 

No, even while 1 have been talking to you and Rip, 
that marvelous double consciousness peculiar to the hu- 
man brain has been at full pressure. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Caustically 7\ Oh, has it ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 147 

PULLINGER. 

[Drumming with his fingers upon his forehead.'] There's 
no avoiding it, Mrs. Lovette. The design includes a 
small engine, driven by gas or electric power, at the bed- 
side. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Sinking info the armchair.] Lord 'a mercy ! [Rippin- 
GILL reappears suddenly, entering at the door on the left.] 
Seymour ! 

Rippingill. 
[Confronting Mrs. Lovette — in hollow tones.] Dora 
Lovette, I do not offer you — you can never hope to get 
from me — the love of an unfledged boy. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising with emotion.] Seymour, if love of that sort 
were to grow at my feet 1 would not stoop to pluck it. 

Rippingill. 
What am I to understand ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[Going to him and leaning upon his arm.] Ah ! 

[They sit together upon the settee on the left, he with a 
troubled air.] Who could have anticipated this? 

Rippingill. 
No, we must make the best of it. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The best of it ! 

Rippingill. 

I mean, we must strive to make each other happy, 
Dora. 



J 48 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ah, indeed ! 

PULLINGER. 

[Absorbed, looking at them absently.'] There is only one 
drawback that I can foresee. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Drawback ? 

PULLINGER. 

Vibration. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Vibration ! 

PULLINGER. 

Perhaps occasional oscillation. 

Rippingill. 
[Rising, anxiously.'] Oh, Jack, why? 

PULLINGER. 

Which would be fatal to the chances of repose. 

Rippingill. 
[Plucking at Pullinger's sleeve.] Jack, you alarm 
me 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Ah, your invention, Mr. Pullinger! [Constrainedly.] 
Ha, ha! Mr. Pullinger's invention! 

Pullinger. 
Yes, Rip ; a priceless, inestimable gift to mankind. 

Rippingill. 
[Relieved.] Oh, your luggage-label, Jack ! [Faintly.] 
Ha, ha! 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 149 

PULLINGER. 

No, no [Rousing himself. ~\ But I haven't wished 

you joy. Bless you — [advancing to Mrs. Lovette] bless 
you ! Apropos — the most ravishing spot in creation for a 
honeymoon, it's in Wales — [to her] jot it down before it 
escapes me 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising and reseating herself at the writing- table — 
modestly.'] You bold man, you ! 

PULLINGER. 

No trains, no post, no papers — nothing. 

Rippingill. 
[Disconte)itedly.] No papers ? 

PULLINGER. 

[To Mrs. Lovette.] Two L's 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Writing.] Two L's 

PULLINGER. 

Two L's — two n's— two y's— two w's — one i — t— h. [A 
hand on Rippingill' s shoulder.] And now you proceed 
to fire your first bomb-shell. 

Rippingill. 

[Biting his nails.] At once ? 

PULLINGER. 

\Tugging at his moustache.] Send a message to your 
stables. Your carriage is not at the disposal of Mrs. — 
Miss — your late wife and her supporters. 

Rippingill. 

[Nervously?] Not ? 



150 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

PULLINGER. 

You require it this morning, to take a lady for a 
drive. 

Rippingill. 
Mrs. Lovette ? 

PULLINGER. 

Mrs. Lovette. Your coachman reports to the house — 
and the bomb bursts. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Rising.'] I think I should prefer a more ceremonious 
method 

PULLINGER. 

Have they observed ceremony ? [To Rippingill.] 
Where's your bell ? [Discovering the telephone. ~\ The 

telephone — better 

[Mrs. Lovette retires to the bay-window as Pul- 
linger hobbles to the telephone and rings at it 
vigorously. 

Rippingill. 
[Fortifying himself^ Revenge — revenge — re- 
venge ! 

PULLINGER. 

[After listening at the telephone^ Come along, Rip. 

Rippingill. 
Eh? 

PULLINGER. 

Sharp ! 

Rippingill. 
[Going to the telephone and speaking to it.~] I want 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 151 

Foley . . . Foley . . . What? . . . Oh ! 

[Leaving the telephone in a hurry, ,] Avis ! 

PULLINGER. 

Go back! 

RlPPINGILL. 

It's Avis! 

PULLINGER. 

[Leading him to the instrument. ~\ Go back ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

Avis is at the other end ! [At the telephone again, 
mildly. ~\ Oh, is that you, my pet ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[Coming forward.~\ No, no ! 

Pullinger. [By the piano, .] } No, no ! 
Mrs. Lovette. j Not your pet ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Over the top of the piano. .] What's the matter ? 

Pullinger. 
You are calling her your pet. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Taking Pullinger' s place. .] F m your pet. 

RlPPINGILL. 

I beg your pardon. The force of habit 

Pullinger. 
Go back ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

[■Returning to the telephone.^ Are you there ? . , , 



152 A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 

Touching the carnage ... I say, touching my car- 
riage . . . No, my carriage . . . Oh, I am per- 
fectly well aware you haven't left yet . . . 

PULLINGER. 

Impudence ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Unblushing effrontery ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

At any rate, you can't have it this morning . . . 
Am I not intelligible ? You cannot have it this morning. 
{Rapidly.] You can't have it, you can't have it, you 
can't have it, you shd ri t have it ... ! 

PULLINGER. 

[ Walking away to the right and sitting on the settee .] 
Excellent ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

The reason ! ... By all means . . . Don't 
you shout at me . . . 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Sitting in the chair by the piano."] Minx ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

I am going to give a lady a drive. . . . Yes, I am 
. . . Oh, yes, I am . . . We'll see . . . 
Yes, we will see . . . Certainly, if you desire to 
know . . . Mrs. Lovette . . . {Very clearly.] 
Mrs. Stanley Lovette . . . Oh ! . . . {Recoil- 
ing.] What language . . . ! 

{He drops into the armchair with a groan. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
What language ? [Rippingill is silent, closing his 
eyes.] A secret between us already, Seymour ! What 
language ? 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 153 

RlPPINGILL. 

She has described me as a beauty. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Shuddering.'] Vile woman ! 

PULLINGER. 

[Rubbing his hands together^] However, it's done. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
{Gloomily.] What will happen next, Mr. Pullinger ? 

PULLINGER. 

Easily answered. Foley or the coachman will come 
down for orders. [ To Rippingill.] You give him your 
orders, and a. note to Miss — Miss 

Mrs. Lovette. 

Meiklejohn 

Pullinger. 
Informing her of your engagement to Mrs. Lovette. 
Immediate result — an exhibition of abject humility. 

Mrs. Lovette and Rippingill. 
\_Nodding their heads in satisfaction.] Abject humility. 

Pullinger. 
[Rising.] Shall /draft the note ? 

Rippingill. 
Thank you, Jack. 

[Pullinger goes to the writing-table, where he sits 
and prepares to write. Mrs. Lovette joins 
him and stands looking over his shoulder. 

Pullinger. 
First or third person ? 



154 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Decidedly.] Third. 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Rising.] Third. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
I wish there was a fourth. 

[Pulling himself together, RlPPINGILL takes the 

chair which is standing by the piano and plants 
it firmly in the mid if I e of the room. Then he 
seats himself astride it, defiantly. 

PULLINGER. 

[ Writing.'] ' ' Mr. Seymour Rippingill 

RlPPINGILL. 

[Dictating.] " Mr. James Seymour Rippingill begs 
leave to present his compliments to Miss Avis Meiklejohn 
— to Miss Avis Emily Meiklejohn" — no, she is Miss 

Meiklejohn simply 

[Avis, Christabel, Trood and Webbmarsh 
enter from the garden. They are all dressed 
for church, and are carrying prayer-books. 

Avis. 
[//earing the mention of her name and advancing.] I'm 
here. 

[Pullinger jumps up and Mrs. Lovette utters 
a cry. 

Rippingill. 
[Getting off his chair hurriedly.] Avis ! 

Avis. 
What are you up to ? 

Rippingill. 
Madam 



A WIFE WITHOUT A S3IILE 155 

Avis. 
{Formidably.'] What are you up to? 

RlPPINGILL. 

Miss Meiklejohn 

Avis. 
Out with it ! Out with it ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

\_After a pause ; bringing Mrs. Lovette forward.] My 
fiancee. 

Avis. 
Your ! 

Christabel. 
Haynes ! 

Webbmarsh. 
Christabel ! 

RlPPINGILL. 

This lady will honor me by becoming my wife directly 
any legal impediment which may exist is removed. 

Avis. 
{Confronting Mrs. Lovette.] Well, this is a nice 
little game of tennis, upon my word ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Don't presume to address me. {To Rippingill, who 
is by her side.] Seymour 

Christabel. 
Absolutely scandalous ! 



156 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 

[Producing his note-book, and sitting on the settee on the 
right— to Christabel.] Hush ! One of the scenes a 
faire. 

Avis. 
[Tearing off her gloves — to Mrs. Lovette.]' You 
worm yourself into my house on a visit 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Your house ! 

Avis. 
Until I am fetched by my Aunt Amy — certainly. I 
wonder if any of the spoons and forks are missing ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To Rippingill.] Come away. 

[Mrs. Lovette is leading Rippingill towards 
the hall when Avis catches hold of him and 
forces him into the chair in the centre of the 
room. He sits there, facing the windoiv, a 
passive figure, while the ladies thoughtlessly 
emphasize their remarks by rapping upon his 
head. 

Avis. 
No ! Not before I've had my say ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Unless you moderate your tone 

Avis. 
Here's a pretty turnabout ! Yesterday morning, at 
breakfast, you were all for the advantages of remaining a 
widow. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yesterday my heart had not been melted 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 157 

Avis. 
Oh, it's a case of hearts and darts, is it ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Hold your tongue ! 

Avis. 
I sha'n't! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Yesterday my bosom had not been wrung by the suf- 
ferings of this unfortunate man. 

Avis. 
Ho, ho ! He'll soon forget his misfortunes in your 
tender care, won't he? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
He will. 

Avis. 
M'yes. You made short work of poor old Lovette 
though, didn't you? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Oh! 

Avis. 
How's that ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
If I had a pair of soiled gloves on, I'd slap your face. 

Avis. 
What! 

Mrs. Lovette. 

Seymour ! 

[Seizing Rippingill, she drags hvn into the hall 
and they disappear. 



158 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Avis. 
[Flushed and exhausted.'] Ah, ah, ah ! 

Christabel. 
{Folding her in an embrace.] Sweetest, be calm — be 
calm ! Why upset your dear self over what is, after all, 
a mere trifle ? 

Avis. 
[Releasing herself impatiently.] Trifle ! 

Christabel 
It can be nothing more. Ah, my Avis wouldn't act 
like the naughty dog in the manger ! 

Webbmarsh. 

[Interposing himself between Christabel and Avis, 
note-book and pen in hand.] Miss Meiklejohn, there was 
an observation of yours to Mrs. Lovette 

Avis. 
[Sitting on the settee on the left, panting.] Oh, don't 
bother me! 

Webbmarsh. Christabel ! ) , p . d 
Christabel. Haynes ! j L 

Trood. 
[Who has been looking on in astonishment — advancing.] 
I cannot help agreeing with Mrs. Webbmarsh, Avis. 

Avis. 
Can't you ! 

Trood. 

I utterly fail to see how Air. Rippingill's domestic con- 
cerns 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 159 

Avis. 
His domestic ! [Hitting the palm of her hand with her 
fist forcibly .] My stars, 1 don't intend to stand by quietly 
while that woman steals my husband from under my very 
nose ! 

Trood and the Webbmarshes. 
Your husband ! 

[The suspended doll dances. 

Avis. 

[Pointing to the doll.~\ Ah ! 

[ With a yell, she pushes aside those who surround 
her and rushes through the hall. 

Trood. 
[Looking at the others.^ This behavior on Avis's part 
— most unaccountable. 

Webbmarsh. 

[Closing his note-book.^ It is at this point, Christabel, 
that fiction will disassociate itself entirely from fact. 

Trood. 
Hark! 

The YYebbmarshes. 
What's that ? 

[Trood and the Webbmarshes niove to tfie arch- 
way and there listen intently. The doll becomes 
still. Pullinger is seen in the bay-window, 
stupefied by the events 7vhich are taking place, 
struggling into his motor-costume. 

Webbmarsh. 
[To Christabel.] Sssh, sssh, sssh ! Your skirt is 
rustling. 



160 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Christabel. 
[Clinging to Webbmarsh.] Haynes ! 

Webbmarsh. 

To whom does the shrill voice belong ? 

Christabel. 
To Avis. 

Trood. 

I can hear nobody but Avis. 

Christabel. 

{Stifling a shriek.'] Ah— h— h ! 

Trood. 
There goes a chair. 

Webbmarsh. 
Or was it a falling body ? 

Christabel. 
Somebody's coming ! 

Trood. 
Mrs. Lovette ! 

[Mrs. Lovette, breaking through the group, tot- 
ters across the room and drops upon the settee on 
the left. Trood and the \\ ebbm arshes gather 
round her. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Hysterically^ Oh ! oh ! oh ! 

Trood and the Webbm arshes. 
Mrs. Lovette ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Let me recover my breath, and then I'll get out of this 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 161 

wild-beast show. The low baggage ! The fiend in hu- 
man form ! The she-devil ! 

[Pullinger appears before Mrs. Lovette fully 
accoutred, even to the wearing of a hideous 
mask. 

Pullinger. 
Madam 

Mrs. Lovette. 

[With a screech.'] Ah ! [Recognizing him and 

leaping to her feet. ~\ You ! 

Pullinger. 
[Sadly.] I regret to gather from your tone that my face 
has ceased to be agreeable to you. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
It has. Considerate of you to hide it. 

Pullinger. 
[Removing his cap and mask apologetically.] Oh ! 
[With deep remorse.] Mrs. Lovette, I freely acknowledge 
that my calculations have not, perhaps, been fulfilled to 
the letter. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Furiously^] They never are ; they weren't yesterday ; 
they never will be. [Following him to the right as he re- 
treats before her.] You — you — you are a methodical, in- 
genious, consummate muddler ! 

Pullinger. 
Dear lady ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Tearfully.] Yes, you can j — j— jot that down before 
you forget it. 



162 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Christabel. 

[Looking towards ike hall.~\ Avis ! 

[Avis enters with Rippingill, her arm through 
his. They stand in the middle of the room 
silently, she with an air of complacency, lie 
with a shifting eye. 



Trood. 

pullinger. 
Mrs. Lovette. 



Avis ! 
Rip! 

Mr. Rippingill ! 

Avis. 

Ahem! [PresenlingRivpixGiLL formally.] My fiance. 

[There is an exclamation from Trood, Pul- 

linger, and the Webbmarshes. Assisted by 

Pullinger, Mrs. Lovette sinks on to the 

settee on the right. 

Trood. 
[To Avis.] False, deceitful girl ! 

Avis. 
[Tossing her head.~\ Not at all, Vivian. Only I can't 
bring myself to resign my big house, and the servants, 
and my position generally — to that lady especially. 

Trood. 
Ho ! Well, it may be that Art will be the richer. 
[Going to the door on the left.] For the future she will be 
my sole goddess. 

Avis. 
[Sitting with Rippingill on the settee on the left.] 
Very sensible of you, dear boy, 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 163 

Trood. 
[Haughtily. .] Rippingill, I take the liberty of borrow- 
ing a boat. [To the others.'] Good-day. 

[He departs. Mrs. Lovette rises. 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[To the Rippingills, witheringly.] I suppose I may 
have the shandrydan to carry me'to the station ? I shall 
enjoy sitting on the platform for a couple of hours. 

Avis. 
[With dignity.'] My carriage is at your service. 

[As Mrs. Lovette turns away, Rippingill rises. 
Avis gentty detains him by holding his coat- 
tail. 

Rippingill. 
Dora ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
Don't dare ! 

Rippingill. 
[Pitifully.] Your — your sense of humor ! 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[Relenting slightly .] Se y mour 

Rippingill. 
[Gratefully.] Eh? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
It's my firm conviction we've never had any. [Moving 
towards the hall] That is why we have made such fools 
of ourselves. 

[Avis tugs at Rippingill' s coat-tail and he re* 
sumes his seat, 



164 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

PULLINGER. 

[Following Mrs. Lovette.] My automobile — if my 
mecanicien has succeeded in repairing the tires — I entreat 
you to go in it 

Mrs. Lovette. 
[ Wheeling round fiercely .~\ No, you go in it. Go to the 
place you recommended to me for my honeymoon ! 

Pullinger. 
[Confused— holding his head.'] Recommended ? 

Mrs. Lovette. 
The place with two L's! [To the Webbmarshes.] 
Good-morning. 

[She sweeps through the hall and disappears into 
the garden. 

Pullinger. 
[Addressing Avis, humbly.] Miss Meiklejohn, I am 
not sanguine enough to hope that, after the events of to- 
day, my visits here will continue to be acceptable. 

Avis. 
[Rising.'] Extremely kind of you to mention it. [ Walk- 
ing away to the right.] Your influence hasn't been a very 
wholesome one for him, has it ? 

Pullinger. 
[Wringing Rippingill's hand— in a choking voiced] 
Rip — Rip — old friend, I have invented a pillow 

Rippingill. 

[Feebly. ~\ A pillow, Jack ? 

Pullinger. 
The Pullinger Pillow, a Boon for the Sleepless. 
[Glancing at Avis.] You shall have the first that leaves 



A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 165 

the factory. [To Avis ] Good-morning. [To the Webb- 
marshes.] Good-morning. 

[He departs as the Webbmarshes, who have 
been in close consultation together, come for- 
ward. 

Christabel. 
[ To Avis, awkwardly. 1 Avis, dear, Haynes and I have 
just been talking your affairs over seriously. Of course 
I can't help feeling somewhat disappointed. 

Avis. 
[Sitting upon the settee on the right, swinging her foot.] 
Sorry, I'm sure. 

Christabel. 
You see, I place our friendship, young as it is, upon 
such a high pedestal. However, I am willing to believe 
that what you have done has been at the dictation of a 
generous and forgiving nature. [To Webbmarsh.J 
That being so ? 

Webbmarsh. 
That being so, we do not propose to withdraw our 
protection [with playful gallantry] from the fair Miss 
Meiklejohn. 

Avis. 
Thanks awfully ; but Mrs. Hopkins, the coachman's 
wife, is a comfortable, motherly woman. 

The Webbmarshes. 
[Puzzled.'] Mrs. Hopkins? 

Avis. 
She can take on the chaperoning till auntie turns up. 
And she won't spread herself quite so much. 



166 A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE 

Webbmarsh. 
[After a moment's pause, to Christabel.] My darling, 
I think we will avail ourselves of the accommodation af- 
forded by Mr. Pullinger's automobile. 

Christabel. 
[In a flurry. ~\ Quick, Haynes, or he'll start without us ! 
[They make for the garden. 

Webbmarsh. 
[To Christabel suddenly.'] Wait. {Returning and 
standing before Rippingill.] Rippingill, throughout the 
many years we have known each other, you have in- 
variably, both in conversation and in composition, split 
your infinitives. 

Rippingill. 

[Looking up, in complete bewilderment.'] What has 
that to do with it ? 

Webbmarsh. 
Nothing — except that the practice is offensive to the 
cultured mind. I have stood the strain till now. Good- 
day. 

[He rejoins Christabel and they depart. 

Avis. 
Whew! Well, I'm still hostess ; [rising] I'd better be 
in the porch to see 'em off the premises. [Going.] You 
may eat your lunch with me if you like, Seymour — [turn- 
ing] with me and Mrs. Hopkins. [Stamping her foot.] 
Oh, for heaven's sake, do wake up. A girl doesn't want 
a man perpetually playing the giddy goat all over the 

shop ; but a husband without a smile 

[She leaves him. He rises painfully and, mount- 
ing a chair, p?vceeds to cut down the hanging 
doll with his pocket-knife. 

THE END 



Arthur W. Pinero 

A WIFE 

WITHOUT A SMILE 




A COMEDY IN DISGUISE IN 
THREE ACTS 



Walter H. Baker 6 Co.. Boston 



A. W. PINERO'S PLAYS. I 

Uniformly Bound in Stiff Paper Covers, 
Price, 50 cents each. 



The publication of the plays of this popular author, made feasible by the new 
Ccpyright Act, under which his valuable stage rights can be fully protected, 
enables us to offer to amateur actors a series of modern pieces of the highest 
class, all of which have met with distinguished success in the leading English 
and American theatres, and most of which are singularly well adapted for ama- 
teur performance. This publication was originally intended for the benefit of 
readers only, but the increasing demand for the plays for acting purposes has 
far outrun their merely literary success. With the idea of placing this excel- 
lent series within the reach of the largest possible number of amateur clubs, we 
have obtained authority to offer them for acting purposes at an author'! roy- 
alty of 

Ten Dollars for Each Performance. 

This rate does not apply to professional performances, for which terms will be 
made known on application. 



nrxjTT AlurA7AlVrQ i A Farcical Romance in Three Acts. By Arthur 
1 nx. SU.VLrLZ*KJL^O. | w Pixero . Seven male and flve female char- 

— — — — — — — — — 1 acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an exterior 

and an Interior, not at all difficult. This admirable farce is too well known 
through its recent performance by the Lyceum Theatre Company, New York, to 
need description. It is especially recommended to young ladies' schools and 
colleges. (1895.) 






THE CABINET MINISTER. 



A Farce in Four Acts. By 
Arthur W. Pinero. Ten male 
1 and nine female characters. 
Costumes, modern society ; scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, in- 
genious in construction, and brilliant in dialogue. (1892.) 



DANDY DICK* 



A Farce In Three Acts. By Arthur W. Pixero. 

Seven male, four female eharacters. Costumes, mod- 
ern ; scenery, two interiors. This very amusing piece 
was another success in the New York and Boston theatres, and has been ex- 
tensively played from manuscript by amateurs, for whom it is in every respect 
suited. It provides an unusual number of capital character parts, is very funny, 
and an excellent acting piece. Plays two hours and a half. (1893.) 



THF T4DRRV HHR^F \ A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthur 
AriC. nUDDX nUJVOE»J Wt PlNKao . Ten male, five female cbar- 

' acters. Scenery, two interiors and an ex- 
terior ; costumes, modern. This piece is best known in this country through the 
admirable performance of Mr. John Hare, who produced it in all the principal 
cities. Its story presents a clever satire of false philanthropy, and is foil of 
interest and humor. Well adapted for amateurs, by whom it has been success- 
fully aoted. Plays two hours and a half. (1892.) 



LADY BOUNTIFUL. [ 

Interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, a 'little sombre in 
key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) 



A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. 
Pinero. Eight male and seven female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, four 



1 



4s 



/» 



\ THE PROFLIGATE. 



((IS 

4s 
sv 
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▼ 



THE MAGISTRATE. T £ Farce inThree Acts. By Artitos. V. 
* ±*~ »mvio a ay-re. a ^ | p IKEBO- Twelve male, tour female char- 
. actere. Costumes, modem ; Bcenery, all 

The merits of this excellent and amusing piece, one of the mostpopu- 
auihor'a plays, are well attested by long and repeated runs in the 
principal American theatres. It is of the higlftst class of dramatic writing, and 
is uproariously funny, and at the same time unexceptionable in tone. Its entire 
suitability for amateur performance has been shown "by hundreds of such pro- 
ductions from manuscript during the past three years, flays two hours and 
a half, (1892.) 



interior, 
lar of its 



THE NOTORIOUS 
MRS. EBBSMITH. 



A Drama in Pour Acts. By Arthur W. 
Pinero. Eight male and five female charac- 
ters; scenery, all interiors. This is a "prob- 
lem *' play continuing the series to which " The 
Profligate " and ' " 



igate " and "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray 
belong, and while strongly dramatic, and intensely interesting is not suited ^a 
amateur performance. It is recommended for Reading Clubs. (1896.) 



A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pinb- 
ro. Seven male and five female characters. 
Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate; 
costumes, modern. This is a piece of serious interest, powerfully dramatie in 
movement, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, hut not suited for ama- 
teur performance. (1892.) 



THE SCHOOLMISTRESS, 



A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthub 
W. Pinero. Nine male, seven fe- 
1 male characters. Costumes, mod- 
ern ; scenery, three interiors, easily arranged. This ingenious and laughable 
farce was played by Miss Rosina Vokes during her last season in America with 
great success. Its plot is amusing, its action rapid and full of incident, its dia- 
logue brilliant, audits scheme of character especially rich in quaintand humor- 
ous types. The Hon. Vere Queckett and Peggy are especially strong. The piece 
is in all respects suitable for amateurs. (1894.) 



THE SECOND 
MRS. TANQUERAY. 



A Play in Pour Acts. By Arthur W. 
Pinero. Eight male and five female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three 
interiors. This well-known and powerful 
' play is not well suited for amateur per- 

formance. It is offered to Mr. Pinero's admirers among the reading public in 
answer to the demand which its wide discussion as an acted play has created. 
(1894.) Also in Cloth, $1.00. 



SWEET LAVENDER. 



A Comedy in Three Acts. By 
W. Pinero. Seven male and four female 
characters. Scene, a single interior, the 
same for all three acts ; costumes, modern and fashionable. This well known 
and popular piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it has been 
often given during the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic, and its 
comedy interest abundant and strong. (1893.) 

THE TI MKSI I A Comedy In Pour Acts. By Arthur W. Pinero. 2!* 
' ■■ -i .■• | male and seven female characters. Scene, a single ele- 

. . gant interior ; costumes, modern and fashionable. An 

entertaining piece, of strong dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. 

fr THE WEAKFR ^FX f A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthub 
f *"*^ WllttJiriK. QUA. | W . PrNEK J . Eight male and eight female 
. characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, 

two interiors, not difficult. This very amusing comedy waB a popular feature of 
the repertoire of Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in this country. It presents a plot of 
strong dramatic interest, and its incidental satire of "Woman's Rights" em* 

Floys some admirably humorous characters, and inspires many very clever lines. 
ts leading characters are unusually even in strength and prominence, which 
makes it a very satisfactory piece for amateurs. (1894.) 



a 



The Plays of Henrik Ibsen. 

Edited, with Critical and Biographical Introduction, 
fey EDMUND GOSSE. 

This series is offered to meet a growing demand for the plays of this well- 
abuaed and hotly-discussed writer, whose influence over the contemporary drama 
is enormous even if his vogue in the American theatre he still regrettahly 
small. These plays are intended for the reading public, but are recommended 
for the use of literary societies and reading clubs, aud somewhat diffidently 
suggested to dramatic dubs, as providing unconventional but vigorously acta- 
ble material. As a dramatist Ibsen is absolutely ** actor-tight," and has written 
more successful parts and inspired more " hits " than any of his more popular 
contemporaries. This edition is printed in large, clear type, well f uited for the 
use of reading clubs. The following titles are ready. 

ATVYT T f *Z "HTOTT^F I A Play in Three Acts. Translated by Wil- 
UKJL* X* O STLKJUOEm. j UAM archer. Three male, four female char- 
- acters, and three children. Price, 25 cents. 

THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY. I k^^V w„iS 

■ ' » ' ■ . ■ ■ i 1 Archer. Ten male, nine 

female characters. Price, 25 cents. 



fiWO^f^ 1 A Drama nr Three Acts. Translated by William 

vjj. i\~/o j. «j. Archer. Three male, two female characters. " 

'■ ' — ' Price, 25 cents. 

Pn^MFPWHTM I A Drama nr Four Acts. Translated by M. 

l^Womiiiv.»3Jn.v-u-AVA» I oarmichajol. Four male, two female charac- 

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THE LADY FROM THE SEA. I &3£&£oES &£ 

' Five male, three female 
characters. Price, 25 cents. 

A Play nr Five Acts. Trans- 
lated by William Archer. 
Nine male, two female charac- 
Price, 25 cents. 



AN ENEMY OF SOCIETY. 



ters. 



TTTP" WTT Ti HTTrir I A Drama nr Ftyb Acts. Tr 
1 nil W1L1V UUKJS^ 1 M AvBLnro . Twelve male, 



THE YOUNG MEN'S LEAGUE. 



male, six female characters. 

HEDDA GABLER. 



THE MASTER BUILDER. 



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A Drama nr Fivb Acts. Translated by E. 

three female 

characters Price, 25 cents. 



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Translated by Henry 

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A Play nr Three Acts. Trans- 
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